


The Dead Road

by haraldstad2joni



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cannibalism, Alternate Universe - No Walkers, Anal Sex, Angst, Cannibalism, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff, Gay Sex, M/M, Poor Daryl, Post-Apocalypse, Rickyl Writers' Group, Sadness, bottom!daryl, could be slowburn, dilemma, inspired by Cormac McCarthy's The Road, post-apocalyptic world, sexual content tags will be added later, some graphic depiction, sorry for the bad tagging, still post-apocalyptic but different problems, top!rick, versatile couple, virgin!Daryl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7269484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haraldstad2joni/pseuds/haraldstad2joni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick Grimes, a comatose patient wakes up in a world of terror and insecurity and found by Daryl Dixon a Redneck from Northern Georgia. As the world changes, people left and put both of them on a mission to look for the beloved ones and sanctuaries to survive. Life has screwed up but every single thing is possible within, love is included</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first TWD fan fiction.  
> I know there are a lot of mistake I've made in this story, especially for the grammar.  
> hope you enjoyed it.

It was all red in sight. Just some kind of bright red. Then it faded away into darker color and turned back to the brightness. Everything sounded so still, only sort of vehicle engines roared from the distance. It all gathered. The color, the sound and then the smell of dust and rust were clinging in the air. It was the moment when Rick Grimes finally opened his eyes. 

In sudden, he wide awoke himself. Crystal blue eyes pinned up to the ceiling. It was the first thing he saw after a very long comatose. He needed much to learn the situation around. The sky outside the dusty windows looked so gray, like rain was going to fall or storm was ready to come. He tried to move his shoulder. It still felt so sore after that day he got bullet came through. 

Where is it? What time is it? What happened? Where are they? All questions slammed his head like a sledgehammer and left him stunned. 

“Nurse! Nurse, help!” Rick shouted. His throat was extremely dry like a pond in long summer. 

“Anybody, help me!” he continued shouting and shrieking. He stared at the outside world, glanced to his surrounding, and he realized something happened. There was no one answering him. Not one single person’s voice even heard around. 

The dullness of the room scared him. He looked at the flower bouquet. They all turned into brown lifeless things. The ventilator could no longer be used and the heart rate monitor was already shut down. It was a pretty strange thing that he could survive without them. It was weird that he still alive and even woke up in the middle of nothingness. He pulled off the ventilator from his nose and the IV line from his wrist. It must be long since those things worked for the last time. 

Rick tried to step down to the floor. It felt so cold and he walked limply. Everything still seemed like a merry go round. He carefully took his pace to the door. A wheeled stretcher blocked his way, right in front of the door, like deliberately put to avoid someone to enter the room—or to get out of there. Rick pushed the stretcher away because he desperately needed water. The more difficult he found it, the more miserable he would be. 

He roamed the dead dark hallway all alone. His mind was full of questions. And, he was afraid that would never be answered. The electricity was gone. Only windows from the rooms provided some little light to ease him strode out. He pushed the hallway door and searched for water. He kept moving until he found a kind of service desk with a small fridge behind the chair. It was pretty dark but he continued scavenging in the place. Then he got a small bottle of mineral water. Like a thirsty vagabond in the middle of desert, he gulped the water. He didn’t care about things, not even the terrible smell came out of the dead fridge. He did until he choked a little bit, but at least he revived. 

His eyes stuck at the end of the hallway. He believed that he heard footsteps. His instinct could be proven wrong, at this total silence, a blowing wind could imitate anything, even the vehicle engine he heard at the first place. The man moved along the hallway to make sure his sense wasn’t wrong. The way was dark until he reached the other end’s door. It was locked. 

All of his thought was about to escape the frightening place. The reality was he couldn’t go anywhere. It was fifth floor and he wouldn’t jump off the window to free himself. He slowly built anger inside, coming at the moment no one was here, not even his family, and that if something really happened, how the hell they could leave him like that!

Rick growled and kicked the door, pulled the doorknob over and over, and kicked it again.

“Fuck you all! Let me get outta here! Fuck!! Anybody help!!!” he shouted, even harsher and louder this time, and the chaotic sounds he made didn’t stop as well. 

He kept trying and become more frustrating. He was just getting back from an uncertainty for a long time and he didn’t want to die just like this. 

“Fuck you!!!” he kicked the door and aimed to do more when suddenly something fast came through him. It almost hit him, but it didn’t. It stuck at the wood. Needed some seconds for Rick to realize what that was. 

_A black arrow with red fletching._

Rick’s sense wasn’t wrong. Someone really was there. He wasn’t alone, but he couldn’t assure he would be safe. This person aimed an arrow against him, almost hit him in the face. Not so good for someone who came to help. 

“Who’s there?” Rick asked, his voice was shaking a little bit. It wasn’t him the way he was before, a cop, so fearless and fierce. He was just a sick man who returned from dying, so powerless and weak. 

“Who’s there?” Rick repeated his question. He grabbed an IV pole and swung it around. 

The footsteps came closer and closer. Slowly a silhouette of someone started to come up. It was a man, average height and posture. He was close but stayed hidden under the shade. 

“Show yourself!” Rick challenged. He swung the pole more savagely than before. 

The man moved in a steady pace. He was close enough to Rick but his face kept unseen by the darkness. 

“Put the pole down!” a rumbling low voice heard. The steady pace kept going closer. 

“Put the crossbow down!” Rick said in return.

The man put down the weapon. He moved closer to Rick after the cop dropped the IV pole. He walked past him and pulled the arrow on the door before put it back in his quiver. 

By the shade, Rick at least could notice what the man looked like. He was as tall as him, his boots just supported his height for few inches. He got quite long shaggy hair, dark colored, messy and lousy. His face was hid by some locks of his hair, but surely he had deep sharp eyes and some scruff and lighter colored goatie in his chin. 

“Who are you?” The man asked in a deep southern accent. He got a hint of big skepticism about the other man. 

“I was a patient here, woke up from a coma,” Rick answered, “need to get outta here. Who are you? What are you doin’ here?”

The man tilted his head, moved his body in a strange typical way, a little bit swayed to the one side before returned to his previous position. He was kind of studying something about the stranger.

“I’m lookin for food, something to eat,” he said, didn’t even answer Rick’s first question, “how long you’ve been woken? Did ya found some shit? Human flesh? You ate it? You cud’ be one of ‘em,” he spoke slow but started to sound annoying for Rick. 

“What are you talking about?” Rick questioned back. He absolutely had no idea about what this weirdo saying. 

The man scoffed, “damn little prick,” he cursed.

“Human flesh? What the hell? and why’d you shoot me?” Rick tried to gather the puzzle for a conclusion. 

“ _Cannibals_ ,” the man mumbled.

Rick sighed, “You thought I’m a cannibal?” he pointed at himself, “look at you, the way you hunt me like a little raccoon makes you look more like a cannibal than me,” he started rising his voice. 

“Fuck you, man! You exactly dunno shit happens!” the man snapped.

“I don’t! I don’t know anything! Anything!” Rick scolded, “I’ve told you, I just woke up from a coma less than an hour ago, it’s been awhile, and I don’t know what happened, people just left me like that! Even my family did!”

The man snorted, “welcome to the new world, lil’ boy,” he mocked. 

Rick palmed his face, “now what? Are you gonna leave me like this? Or what? gonna kill me?”

“Why askin’ me? It’s on you. If you wanna live, just get outta here, unless you wanna rot yourself,” the man turned around and made his way out. 

Rick, liked him or not, followed him through the emergency stairs. 

Soon, they arrived at the parking lot. Correctly, abandoned parking lot with cars scattered around. The world seemed to stop at some points. The most disturbing view of all was the piles of dead body in every corner of the lot. People died. Many people died. So many of them. It happened awhile because the smell was gone. 

“Shit,” Rick cursed, pulling his hair back frustratingly. 

The man scoffed again, “get shocked, don’t ya?” 

“This will need explanation,” Rick said. He soon remembered about something called post-apocalypse. 

“Find me some food and I’ll explain shit for you, you make a deal,” the man left Rick and headed to his motorcycle. It was a chopped _60’s Triumph Bonneville_ , looked so retro and dull. 

Rick sighed, he looked at the hospital plank— _Harrison Memorial Hospital_ and knew that this place wasn’t too far from his house. He stared at the white bed sheet covered so many dead bodies on the ground. It made him thought he shouldn’t be here longer. 

“You ride me home, and I’ll get you some of my food, I hope some little still left,” Rick finally said.

“You gonna kidding me or what? It’s been five months since everyone left, and you still believe there’s a leftover on your house?” The man asked skeptically. He nearly kick-started his motorbike. 

“My wife usually bought too many canned food, we kept them just in case. If she took the stuffs away, at least there would be two or three cans forgotten,” Rick tried to assure. 

“Two or three uncertain cans of food ain’t worthy for my gas just to ride you home,” the man muttered.

“Okay, so what do you want? You’re gonna leave me, alright, just go,” Rick gave up. This man was too shitty to talk to. 

The man scanned Rick from top to toe. He smirked, “look at you man, all alone like an undead with just johnny gown on ya, you cudn’t even hide yer ass.”

Rick’s face turned red. He looked down and realized how exposed he was. The man was right, he was only draped by a soft hospital johnny gown with three strings behind. The wind blew and it flew the gown up, where had to push his hand down to his groin unless he wanted the man to see his private area. So stupid, he started to feel like Marilyn Monroe by doing this—must be more miserable in this goddamn situation.

The man didn’t laughed out loud, he only made a soft giggle, but Rick was sure he looked so happy to see him this embarrassed. 

“Just thinkin you walk down the road with your ass show up like that makes you look like a delicious walkin’ meat. They’re gonna catch you, and make your legs a soup,” the man said.

Rick didn’t say anything, he just kept covering that part with his hand.

“I’m gonna ride you home, come on,” the man finally made the deal, he kick start the motorbike and waited Rick to come. 

At least, Rick could smirk after those words. He sat up behind the man. The seat he occupied was small, forced him to have physical contact with the man, his chest met his back. All he could see forward was the man’s broad shoulder and the total view of his well toned arm biceps. And, he just stared at a pair of grey angel wings on the back of the man’s vest. 

They rode down the dead road where cars, buses and trucks were abandoned in the highway. It wasn’t the first time Rick saw some dry dead bodies by the street, but it was too much. They were left only in skeletons, some chopped into two. This man was probably right about the cannibalism. Things he didn’t really understand why it happened. Five month had passed, the man said. For sure Rick looked like a caveman came out into the modern civilization. So, welcome to the new Georgia, he told at heart. 

“We’re gonna be there, go ahead and turn left,” Rick instructed. He was thankful that he didn’t get a kind of amnesia. 

The man turned the engine off, waiting for Rick to get down and parked his motorbike in the front lawn of a white painted house. It was Rick’s house. Once it used to be very cheerful and peaceful, painted in white, typical of modern southern bungalow with perfect lawn. 

“Come in,” Rick said, taking few steps up the low stairs and pulled the door handle. It wasn’t locked. 

Rick entered the house carefully through the living room, followed by the stranger. He thought at how sad and empty this house was without his family. Then he almost thought about how they could let him alone out there, but he stopped. The first place he headed was his kitchen. He opened every cabinet and counter, wished he found something in can. 

The man waited patiently. His face looked annoyed, but he still waited. He just bored seeing Rick and decided to check the house. He was out there since the cataclysm began and he knew what he did, he inspected every corner of the house, the outside and the whole house inside. 

“Hey, I’m gonna check upstairs, is that okay?” the man asked from the TV room. 

“Go ahead. I’m gonna tell you if something happens,” Rick answered. 

The man went upstairs. He found there was only small room up here. It was a bedroom that belonged to Rick’s only son, Carl. The man felt enough with checking and he moved downstairs. He smirked and thought a little bit about how cozy this house was, seemed strange for a man like him, could be his first time coming into this kind of house. 

“Found nothin’, this place is clear,” the man said and strode out to the kitchen where he couldn’t find Rick. He looked at four cans of food on the counter before turned away. 

“I’m here,” Rick replied from another room. 

The man followed Rick’s voice and found he was in his bedroom. He already changed his clothes into a pair of black jeans and dull white t-shirt. 

“No water, I can’t take shower,” Rick said while searching something the drawer, “Only a half gallon in the kitchen.” 

The man hummed, “thought you got the food, ‘m gonna take ‘em and go,” he said.

“Hey, hey, wait,” Rick realized this wasn’t going well, “we share this food, okay?”

“It ain’t the deal, prick, you gotta gimme the food, that’s the deal,” the man refused.

“You owe me explanation, right?” Rick challenged. 

The man sighed and made a flat annoying face, “the food gonna be mine, all of ‘em.”

“Sure,” Rick tried so hard to make a smile in his face while he really wanted to punch this man on the face. So shitty he got no gun around. He got one for safety, but Lori, his wife surely took it when they went away. Only this man had weapon, in case there was something went wrong, this man could help him. Maybe, if he was good and kindhearted enough.

“Now, tell me about what happened in these last five months,” Rick started.

The man groped his vest pocket, looked for something. Then he took some broken and lousy cigarettes out. He picked the better one and lit it. 

The man finally explained things with his own simple choice of words, for sure he didn’t mention anything sounded so scientific. Rick could tell himself that this man was a _redneck_. But his explanation was worthy, so Rick let him keep up. What he explained were about the disasters that happened first. There were rain followed by storm and then Georgia was caught in flood. When the flood was over, the crops died, scientific research found that a mutated virus killed cereal crops and grasses. This followed by another virus infected varieties of vegetables and fruits. Exactly, it gave no hope for human to survive anymore. Especially when the cattle and poultry were cut off after their main food like crops and grasses were gone. The sources of food became scarce. People started to scavenge and this led to social chaos and anarchy. The robbery became common. When the supply of canned and dried food decreased, people killed each other over it. Tragically, this happened not only in Georgia, but mostly southern state and the great basin regions. Many people headed north where they heard they would get better place. Some of them who stayed turned insane, the chaotic situation led people into severe stress. They would kill others and ate them to survive. The numbers of people who left were almost only the half of them who stayed. Almost half population of Georgia died in famine and infected virus. As they starved, a new mutated virus attacked and they died so easily. The pandemic was the worst in history. The man referred to the skeletons by the street. What was so wrong but unexplainable was this happened so fast, no one even ready to do something. That was the reason why so many couldn’t survive. 

“If people died because of starvation and cannibalism, how can you survive here?” Rick came to the most important question. 

“I scavenge here and there. I don’t eat people. That’s gross. I hunt some animals in the woods, ‘cud be possum, raccoon or rattlesnake. They don’t get infected. Anything left but not people,” the man answered. His answer sounded so honest, like he really did what he said. 

“You said people went north, where were they going?” Rick clearly needed more explanation.

The man shrugged, “I dunno. If I know I’d already be there, not hanging around here like shit.”

“You looking for someone?”Rick continued asking. 

“It doesn’t matter,” the man was annoyed. He moved away from the threshold and went to the kitchen, “gonna take the food and go. I gave you explanation,” he said. 

Rick raised his eyebrows. He looked outside the window. The day was getting dark. With no weapon he would be vulnerable in the place without electricity. 

At the moment he thought the man already gone, he moved to the kitchen where he found him sitting in the stool, enjoying a can of tuna chunks. 

“Thought you’re already gone,” Rick shrugged. He started to feel hungry, but he agreed with the deal already. 

“I will,” the man mumbled. He continued eating, pulling the can closer to himself, acted like he anticipating Rick would grabbed his food.

“Alright, but it’s getting dark now,” Rick strolled to the cabinets and took two candles out. He saw the man’s lighter on the counter and lit the candles. 

“I can take care of myself,” the man said. He went back to his tuna, ate like a starved street dog having a piece of fresh meat. 

“Yeah, I know you can,” Rick smirked. He didn’t eat for months, he got skinny and weak. No one could ever explain why on earth he was still alive. But what he recently thought was he would be ready to collapse at any time now. He was starving and this man surely would not share his food. 

Rick tried to think hard in the middle of his contracting stomach. If he could survive tonight by drinking only water, he would start scavenge the neighborhood tomorrow. Wished he found something to eat, or even weapon to take care of himself. This world had changed, he kept it in mind. He had to survive, no matter what he’d been through before. So good he was still alive, so good he didn’t found by cannibals. Be thankful to the redneck, he saved his life. If he didn’t want to share his food, it didn’t matter. It belonged to him. 

Rick licked his lips. The aroma of cooked tuna made him starved even more, but he should let it go. As the darkness started occupying the room, his vision turned blur. He heard the man said something, but he ignored it. He was about strolling to the fridge, trying to take a glass of water but he fell off of the stool. 

The man moved from his own stool. He grabbed Rick by his arm and pulled him back to his seat. 

“You look terrible,” the man said. He opened another can of tuna and gave it to Rick, “it’s yours, eat it. You told me you were in coma, so you didn’t eat anything for a longtime. Eat before you turn into a boogeyman.”

Rick smiled, “thought you’re not gonna share the food,” he looked at the tuna before taking the first bite. 

“I ain’t, but you could be died. You’ve shared your food, give one back to you ain’t bad,” the man shrugged. 

“Are you gonna stay here tonight?” Rick asked, half begged. 

“Nah, I gotta go,” the man shook his head.

“Where? You got a place nearby?” Rick started again, “I believe you came from somewhere far.”

“Nah, but it doesn’t matter,” the man drank right from the water dispenser’s faucet. 

Rick chuckled to see how wild this man was, “stay tonight. I’ll find you more food in the neighborhood tomorrow.” 

The man pouted like a little child. He thought hard, considering Rick’s offer. 

“Alright,” he moved his shoulder weirdly, exactly the same as what Rick saw in the hospital. It must be his old habit. 

“Good,” Rick nodded. He finished his first meal faster than he thought. 

“But you gotta help me first,” the man strode out of the kitchen. 

He asked Rick to help him covered his motorbike with cardboards and some leaves, pretended like it was just a pile of garbage. He put it on the side of the house, tried not to make it suspicious.

“If you put something just like that in the lawn, anyone knows you gotta be here for a while. It’s pretty dangerous. Good if they’re just people, but don’t believe in people. If they stay they could be cannibals,” Rick listened to the lesson. It would be good for him. 

“So, if you’re not cannibals, you must be someone who’re not staying in one place,” Rick concluded. 

“Yeah, I’m nomad,” the man mumbled. 

They returned to the house and locked the door, every door exactly. Then they moved upstairs. The man told Rick, the safer place was upstairs, by the window. So they could see if something went closer from the distance. 

Rick sat on Carl’s bed while the man on the floor next to the door. They didn’t lit candle. It would be suspicious. Fortunately, Rick found a flashlight in the drawer he inspected before. 

“You got cigs?” the man asked nervously after groping his vest pocket and found nothing. 

“I don’t smoke,” Rick answered honestly. Smoking killed. 

“Oh crap,” the man cursed incoherently.

Rick thought about something, “I’ll be back,” he said before left downstairs. 

He entered his bedroom and strolled to his closet. He opened the door carefully. He knew something unexpected could be there but he found nothing. Then he moved to a small drawer Lori usually kept her jewelry. He pulled it and found the jewelry had gone, it must be Lori herself who took them away, because things showed that no one sneaked into the house before him. He found no jewelry but a box of a dozen cigarettes in the second drawer below. He remembered Lori’s old habit. The reason she kept the cigarettes on the drawer was to make her stop smoking. It worked, but the stuff was still there, packed very well. 

Rick went back upstairs. He opened the door and found the man already lied down in Carl’s bed. His crossbow put on the nightstand. 

“Where have you been, asshole?” the man asked. 

“Look what I’ve got,” Rick pointed the flashlight at the pack of cigarette in his hands, “A dozen of _Morley_ ,” 

“It’s my lucky day,” the man bit his bottom lip in small excitement.

“You spoke too soon, prick,” Rick grinned mockingly and made the man frowned, “you want this cigs, I’ll give it to you, but you have to help me once more.”

“What’s the deal?” the man crossed his arm on his chest. 

“Ride me to _King County Sheriff Department_ tomorrow,” Rick said. 

“For what?”

Rick showed him the keys, “I worked there,” he said.

The man scoffed, “well, you’re a cop.”

“You’re right,” Rick smiled and nodded, “so what now? You want this thing or not?” he shook the box playfully. 

“Yeah,” the man pouted childishly. 

Rick moved closer to the man, “don’t try to run,” he played the box in front of him. 

“I ain’t gonna,” the man tried to catch the box, but Rick kept playing it. 

“Good boy,” Rick threw the box onto the mattress. 

“So what are you gonna do in the office?” the man lit one cigarette and smoked it deeply. Fortunately, the cigarettes were still in good condition though Lori kept it for a longtime. 

“Taking some stuffs. Important ones. You said we gotta be careful, right?” Rick remembered his beloved _Colt Python_.

The man hummed. He enjoyed the cigarette like he never got it for a long time. The last cigarette he smoked was the miserable one, tasted awful and damped. 

Rick smiled to the man. He knew he wouldn’t see him smile, but he felt thankful for him.

“Hey, we talked too much, and don’t know each other yet,” Rick said and turned on the flashlight, “I’m Rick Grimes,” he gave his hand.

“I’m _Daryl_ ,” the man shook Rick’s hand roughly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The survival adventures started here...

The first hint of dawn woke Rick up from his sleep. He lied down in Carl’s bed, looked up to the window. The redneck named Daryl slept on the wooden floor, curled like a little kitten. Rick gave him the pillow and the blanket. The host offered him the bed, but he refused. Rick could just say okay because he knew it probably had been Daryl’s habit not to sleep on the bed. It looked like he never slept in comfortable place for a longtime. 

The moment Rick sat up in the edge of bed, his thought recycled back to many things he got to do today. There were things he thought about last night, too much. He glanced at Daryl for a while. He didn’t want to smile, but that slightly opened tiny mouth looked so weirdly adorable. He didn’t want to know why he smiled. He just thought that Daryl wasn’t dangerous to him so far. 

Rick walked to the window. He opened it, tried to feel the morning freshness, but he got disappointed. The air was surely not fresh anymore. He looked up to the sky and the big dark clouds started to gather, barricading the newly arise sun in the east. The subtle light that reflected in the window glass slowly faded away. 

“Hey Daryl, wake up,” Rick said. 

The redneck grunted and stretched. He exactly looked like a cat. He didn’t want to move away from the pillow and the blanket. For a longtime wandering, this was the first time he could sleep well. He didn’t know the sheriff deputy before, but he unconsciously trusted him. He let himself slept like never before, even out of his crossbow reach. 

“What time is it?” Daryl mumbled.

“Morning,” Rick answered. He knew what Daryl asked about wasn’t the clock, it was just time because nobody even knew what time it was. 

Daryl opened his small sharp eyes. He yawned and got up. His hair was a total mess, but he let it be. He strolled to the window and nodded as he looked up to the sky. 

“Ready for scavenging the neighborhood?” Rick asked.

Daryl hummed and mumbled something incoherent, “prepare your ass, man,” he took the crossbow and moved downstairs first. 

Rick followed the redneck and they started moving in the lawn. The first destination was the house next to him. He never imagined things would be this bad before. He used to cycle around the blocks or only take a walk with his beloved family in the weekend. People had barbecue in the lawn. Everybody used to be so happy in this neighborhood. Once it did. Then what he could see now was all gloomy, dull houses, garbage and human skeletons shared the sidewalks with abandoned cars. 

They sneaked into the house. The interiors turned dusty. They moved to the kitchen very carefully. Anything could happen at anytime and anyone could be there too. When Daryl made sure the place was clear, Rick inspected every cabinets and counters. Five cans of food, two canned pork and three canned beans. A very good treasure to survive, Rick thought. He put all of the discoveries in the backpack. 

Daryl opened the back door while kept pointing his crossbow. He glanced at Rick and pointed at the backyard. Rick followed him and sighed. The man who once lived in this house lied down in the ground, still wearing his outfits but remained in skeleton and dried skin only. 

“He didn’t get caught by the maneaters,” Daryl muttered.

“Yeah, he probably got sick,” Rick closed the door. 

They moved to other houses. Worked with Daryl was super efficient. He knew what to do, and carefully set up his every pace. Rick was a sheriff. Though he didn’t bring the weapon, he knew what he supposed to do to. So, the redneck seemed like having a nice partner. 

The backpack was now full of food, from canned meat, vegetables, chocolate, sodas and even some fancy candies. Rick agreed to share a half of them with Daryl. They carefully moved back to Rick’s house, going through lawn to lawn, avoided the street where they would be constantly exposed. 

The moment they reached the door, Rick heard a siren from the distance. It started vaguely but turned to be clearer. 

“Wh..” Rick didn’t finish his words yet when Daryl pulled his arm.

“Get in!” Daryl hissed. They closed the door and sat down behind the front windows. 

Rick felt uncomfortable with the situation. He peeked through the window and saw a truck with at least ten armed men. They looked like terrorists, must be survivors but he didn’t get a good impression about them. 

“Who are they?” Rick asked.

“They are maneaters too. Listen, this place ain’t a good place to take shelter, if guys hanging around here that way, they’re no good. I’ve learn things, I saw this kinda guys once. One guy fell down the truck. He died, some of his fellas come down. Thought they would take care of him, I saw they takin’ out knives and started to cut his stomach, pulled his guts out. The others takin’ axe, choppin' his legs. I ain’t gonna lie to ya, I saw them eat that guy, made a fire, preparing the grill. They cooked him. If they found canned food, they would eat it, if they don’t they gonna eat their own guys. But they prefer outsiders who’re still good and don’t get infected,” Daryl explained. 

“Oh, damn,” Rick palmed his face. He knew this would not be good. He got to leave this place as soon as possible. He thought about looking for his family too. So he had to move before the maneaters found him. 

“We gotta get outta here, now,” Rick said, “King County police station,” he nodded. 

Daryl agreed. He let Rick studied the surrounding first. The siren no longer heard around. Then they decided to take the opposite route. Thought it would be safer, at least until they got to the department. 

Rick knew the shortest route to the sheriff station. They covered the motorbike and sneaked through the back door. Rick had the key, so he could go everywhere he would. Their first destination was for sure the weapon inventory. 

Daryl got really interested. He put his old _Horton Scout_ crossbow down and touching almost every rifle and shotgun on the shelves. He took a _Mossberg 500s_ out and checked the overall parts, aiming at the wall like he was ready to shoot. 

“So this is the stuff, eh?” Daryl asked. 

“Yeah, this is it,” Rick answered while cleaning his beloved Colt Python with the edge of his t-shirt. 

“Gonna take ‘em all?” Daryl put the Mossberg and inspected the others. 

“Only what I need,” Rick put a bag on the table, “you can take some if you want to.”

Daryl hummed. He eventually wanted to take everything he wanted. Some shotgun would be useful, for hunting and self defense. At least he didn’t need to recycle the arrows like he usually did. 

Rick would fill the bag with some weapons and ammunition. Things went so unprepared, but if he planned to go north for Lori and Carl, he needed extra self defense. So lucky, he got the key and no one even thought to take the weapons before they left. They all now belonged to him. Claimed. 

After securing the gun in his leg holster, Rick moved to the shelves. What he chose were two high-powered rifles, six shotguns, a dozen handguns, and seven hundred rounds of ammunition. It would look too much to carry. The overall weights must be more than 70 pounds. He would need Daryl to help him taking the bag out. 

“Damn, you ain’t gonna go to war,” Daryl scoffed.

“I am,” Rick nodded, “they, the maneaters, they are well-armed, and I don’t wanna end up in their grills and pots.”

Daryl mumbled something incoherent.

“You got what you need?” Rick asked. 

“This,” Daryl took a _Browning Automatic Rifle Safari_ from the shelf, “good enough for hunting.”

“Good,” Rick looked at the bag. So far what he took were _Harrington & Richardson Pardner Pump Compact, Harrington & Richardson Pardner Pump Protector, Mossberg 500s Remington 870 Wingmaster, Remington 870, , Glock 17, SIG-Sauer P226, Smith & Wesson Model 10 Smith & Wesson Model 586_. Some were possibly more than one. He just took everything that could save his life. He felt threatened, for sure. But he had mission. So he got to survive somehow. 

“Can you help me take this bag out?” Rick asked after zipping the bag.

Daryl opened his mouth slightly. He was about to answer when suddenly they heard a siren moved closer to the station.

“Oh damn,” Rick sighed.

“The maneaters,” Daryl muttered. 

Rick knew, they saw him and Daryl on their way to get to the station. Now they tracked them down and followed to the place. He thought how idiot he was to leave the back door unlocked.

Rick pulled another _Remington 700s_ shotgun out of the shelf and refilled it. No time to escape, he got to give them some lessons. Daryl was ready on the door, listened to every single step that got closer. He started to hear some chattering too. The closer those sounds came, the harder his grip on the crossbow. 

Both Daryl and Rick let the inventory door slightly opened. Rick started to hear more sounds of door creaking. He tried to keep calm, taking another _Glock 17_ pistol and attaching a silencer on the muzzle. 

Three men approached the door and opened it. Daryl shot an arrow on one of them, aiming at his head. While the other two got shocked by what happened, Rick took his chance, shot the remaining two on their heads, taking lives in silence. 

Rick looked at Daryl who pulled his arrow out of the dead man’s forehead and restored it in the quiver. They took the dead bodies out before locking the inventory door to make sure no one would get weapons from this place. Then they carried the 70 pounds bag full of weapons side by side. They had to move to the parking lot but knew how things worked. Three men were sent to check out, they didn’t get back to report, so the others would know thing went wrong. 

Daryl peeked through the bar secured window. They parked the truck close to the exit. And they were not only ten men. It seemed clearly that they took the complete formation to hunt two fresh meats riding a motorbike. They were at least twenty. Twenty full-armed maneaters versus two mere men. Literally, they were two men with a bag full of weapons. 

Rick pressed his back onto the wall next to the door while Daryl was at the other side. They were ready if some others sneaked into the place. Then it happened. Other three men opened the door. Rick and Daryl deliberately left the dead bodies of their pals not far from the door to trap them. Once they got surprised, the sheriff and the hunter shot them in silence. 

Six men had fallen. It’s time to feed the other dogs. Daryl looked at Rick as he prepared the BAR Safari rifle he chose before. Rick was ready with the shotgun slinging in his shoulder and waited for the prefect moment. 

Both looked at each other. Rick nodded and Daryl approved. They cocked the shotgun and the rifle before running out of the door in striking position. Then they fired before their rivals ready. Their sudden movement behind the door made the maneaters gang unprepared. 

The firefight couldn’t be denied. Two men against fourteen, well, some others already fell. They were now no more than ten, but surely the toughest ones remained. It made the firefight became more intense. 

Rick never knew he would fight with shotgun on hands like a maniac. He was a cop, enough to fight criminals with his Colt Python, but at the same time he realized how world had changed. It was a fight to survive, not a law procedure anymore. If it was a law, he made sure it was the law of nature. The survival of the fittest. 

The last man standing was the driver. He tried to seek a moment between Rick and Daryl’s rest time after the firefight. He was running away. But the sheriff would never let a guilty man escaped. He studied well and quickly how scared and bewildered the driver was. He could just let him go. 

Instead, he took the Colt Python, cocking the gun and shot the man at the back of his head. He was still in a good fire range and he fell. The magnum bullet came through his forehead, melting his brain out. Rick sighed and secured the mighty gun back to the place. This escaping maneater seemed like to tease with a gun that even could kill a beast so easily. So he got a reward, a bullet in the head. 

“Nice shot, sheriff,” Daryl mumbled and took the bag to the parking lot. 

“It’s been awhile I didn’t mess around with my _pet_ ,” Rick smirked. 

“I got mine,” Daryl took a box of ammunition from the bag.

“Alright, now we share the food,” Rick led to the place they hid Daryl’s motorbike. 

Then, they actually shared the food. Half would belong to Daryl, they dealt with it. The redneck put all the food in his leather saddlebags. The bags looked small but seemed like they kept the Daryl’s whole possessions. 

Rick saw a _Ford F-150_ was abandoned outside the fence. It used to be sheriff patrol truck. He checked the engine and learned that he key was even still attached. He started and it was on. He could use this truck to go north.

“This truck is alright,” Rick said, he pulled the key off and walked towards Daryl. 

“You gonna leave or stay?” Daryl asked. 

“I’ll go north,” Rick nodded.

Daryl hummed, “find your family?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where to start, or where I will head into, but I’m going north. You know the route?” Rick picked the backpack.

“Not really, but I heard some went through South Carolina and movin’ further to D.C, the others moved west, taking through Memphis and go north,” Daryl tied the crossbow to the metal seat backrest. 

Rick nodded, “I’ll find them,” he assured himself, “well, did they build some refugee camps in the city? I mean, an outbreak usually made people tried to move together, they could be still in one place,” he tried to justify himself that Lori and Carl were still around. 

“Nah, I don’t think so. Government told that people need to move to bigger city, ‘cud be Atlanta, but that was when the outbreak started,” Daryl answered. He had been in Alabama and Mississippi before and he found nothing in the big cities. Everybody left unless they died or became maneaters.

“I’m gonna try,” Rick nodded.

Daryl raised his eyebrow, “good luck, then,”

“Hey, you don’t wanna come?” Rick asked.

“For what?” Daryl tilted his head to the side.

“I know you’re lookin for someone, maybe some people. Why don’t you come with me?” Rick knew he was actually pleading the redneck, but he just chose some better words to say. 

“Nah, they ain’t there,” Daryl shook his head, covering both of his eyes with his messy bangs.

Rick thought for a while, but he finally gave up, “It’s okay. Good luck for you, Daryl. Thanks for the ride,” he gave his hand. 

Daryl thought about something, he looked at Rick and moved to his giving hand, “alright. Thanks,” he shook his hand, now softer than before. 

Rick smiled and picked up the weapons bag before turned back to the truck. He already checked the gas and it was full, enough for some miles away. He probably would get into the gas station after this for supply. 

Daryl got on his seat and kick-started the bike. He turned the motorbike towards the gate where Rick already there. He looked at him and smirked. The sheriff deputy nodded and honked the truck horn. He replied by throttling the bike while kept holding the brake, making some noise. Then he started moving, turned to the right while Rick turned to the left. They split up. 

From the rearview of his truck, Rick could see the redneck rode away. He could only see the angel wings on his back, slowly disappeared. He kept shifting his eyes from the road to the rearview just to look at Daryl. The redneck was no longer on sight. Rick was driving away and he probably would never meet Daryl again. In this brand new world, he would not have a chance to cross path with him again, but at least they’ve made the short term friendship more meaningful. 

The restless redneck rode back to Rick’s house. He felt a little bit safer than before, at least he learned the maneaters gang in King County was already gone. He saw them a few days ago since he arrived and didn’t believe that he and the sheriff deputy wasted all of them. He turned back to his house because he remembered he forgot the cigarette packs and two canned vegetables in the kitchen counters. 

He moved upstairs to get the cigarettes, but he didn’t just leave. He was curious with the suspicious cut in the wooden floor. Then he took his hunter knife and grubbed the wood up. He scoffed and took a box of Hershey chocolate. He tore the box open and hummed. It sounded so happier than he usually did. The box was full of assorted _Hershey’s_ products. The boy, Carl was probably thinking about something while stored all of these stuffs under the floor, but he forgot to take them when it finally needed. 

Daryl looked at the chocolate bars. _Milk chocolate, dark chocolate, milk chocolate chips, cookies and crème, caramels_ , even _cookies and mint_ and a pack of _Hersey’s assorted miniatures_. He surely looked like a five year old boy discovering a treasure, but he didn’t mind. He seemed love chocolate much better than canned tuna and especially smelly _snake jerky_. He was bored always eating rattlesnake and possum for these last one and half months. 

The redneck sat on the floor. He rested his crossbow at his side while peeling a pack of milk chocolate bar. He made the first yummy bite and smiled. Exactly, he didn’t even need thirty seconds until he crushed the pack and tossed it aside. Then he remembered his cigarette. He took one pack, opened up to take one and lit it. He was satisfied he cleared the room. With a big pack of cigarette and a box chocolate treasure, he moved downstairs. 

He stopped in the middle of the staircase, looking at one remaining family pictures in the house. It was Rick, his wife and the boy. He just snorted to see how happy they looked in the pictures. It sounded a little bit sarcastic to remember it wasn’t his thing at all. Happy family, settled down, nice bungalow, family pictures were not Daryl Dixon’s things. He just stopped a while before finally left the house. 

Rick didn’t remember how long he had been on the road. He couldn’t decide which route he would take. Daryl told him some people moved east and the others to the west. The highway was a total mess, cars, buses and trucks abandoned, blocking his way to go through. He was currently at Interstate 85 and thought about driving to Atlanta.

As soon as he reached Atlanta, Rick knew that Daryl was right. He looked down at the highway. Countless vehicles left, dead bodies scattered around. He looked up at the tall buildings, they were burnt, some ruined. Something that Daryl didn’t tell him was that the military bombed the city to stop the outbreak. The numbers of dead bodies he saw much more than what he got in King County. 

Lori, Carl or other survivors would never stay here. Probably at first, they did, but the bombing just took more lives than saved them. They left, and left no sign to where they were going to. Rick decided to move back, the route was blocked. He would never go through Atlanta. 

When every route he tried to choose was blocked by abandoned vehicles, dead bodies and building ruins, Rick stopped at a quarry area. He would run out of fuel soon if he kept trying with the route. He should bring a map with him before he left. 

Rick drove slowly along the quarry and he stopped when he found a camp. He prepared his shotgun just in case it was the maneaters camp. Carefully moved to the RV parked closest to the road, he pointed the shotgun, anticipating unwanted things. He opened the RV door and found two dead bodies, one on the driver seat and the other at the bed back there. There was dried blackened blood around them. It was possibly suicide, but could be homicide. He moved away as soon as possible. The outside view was three or four tents, still attached. He checked every tent and found no one. There was a big icebox outside one of the tents, but it was empty. He learned that probably they left after the dead ones committed suicide, or tragically, those two were too weak to move, so the others killed them.

The RV was left, so it probably broken. He looked at the opened baggage door and found two big fuel cans. It was a quite lucky day. He took them out and moved to his truck. He should find another way to get out of Georgia, no mattered it was going west or east. 

Then Rick just rolled everywhere like he got no business. He needed a map, and some rest as well. The day was getting dark. Sun started setting in the west, left the road glimmered in gloomy orange color. He realized how the sky didn’t look bright anymore though he knew this should be still summer. 

The sheriff deputy drove slowly as he saw someone was on the roadside. He kept going slowly to make sure who that was. He stopped not far from the person with a motorbike. He seemed very familiar with the bike for sure. Then Rick smiled. He set the engine off and got out of the car. 

“You need help, asshole?” Rick giggled, tried to give a surprise.

The motorman took his crossbow and pointed the weapon in defensive mode, “no shit, what are you doing here, prick?” Daryl sighed, put the crossbow down and scoffed like he usually did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me about Daryl's chocolate things. I knew Norman loves chocolate, and dunno why I tried to put it on the story, thought it might be cute for Daryl. who could deny tasty choco btw? even the wild redneck loved it >.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dangerous journey across the states begins...

Daryl closed the truck door and rested himself on the seat. His motorbike was troubled. It had been four three hours and nothing happened. So lucky he met Rick again and put his bike on the truck bed behind. 

“Where are you heading into?” Rick asked. 

“Tryna’ go west, wanna go east, but I ain’t sure,” Daryl took a cigarette out of his vest pocket and lit it. He let the window opened. 

Rick nodded, “I tried some route but stuck. Vehicles blocked everywhere, couldn’t go through.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m on bike,” Daryl muttered. 

“It’s getting dark, seems so dangerous to drive at night, we gotta look for a shelter,” Rick said. 

Daryl approved, “there are some barns around here, we gotta clear one and stay.”

They finally stopped in front of abandoned barn. What they found inside were pretty tragic, horses stuck in the stalls and all died. Their owners were busy to take care of themselves and forgot them so easily, so they died for starving. This place wasn’t good at all to stay. It smelled carcasses, and the straws damped. 

The truck headed into another barn across the road with a windmill behind. They found no carcasses but some abandoned old tractors and big amount of square and round haystacks. This barn was twice as big as the first one. The owner used this more like a garage. So they inspected the area first before parking the truck inside the barn to make sure no one knew they were there. It was clear and good enough to rest. 

Daryl made a small secured fire to warm their bodies. The air was getting colder at night. He left to take his backpack from his bike passenger seat and turned back. 

“I thought we’re not gonna cross path again. Thought you’re already gone far somewhere,” Rick started. They didn’t talk since they cleared the barn. 

Daryl hummed and put the backpack at his side, “I ain’t going anywhere, just messing around here like shit. Just found sumthin’, well some shitty stuffs,” he snorted. 

“I know you’re looking for someone, like I said, maybe some people. You must be lookin’ for them for so long,” Rick opened a can of corn soup and put it around the fire. He repeated to another can for Daryl. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Daryl shrugged. 

Rick looked at Daryl’s eyes. He was a cop so he knew what Daryl was thinking about, “It does. You just movin’ around like you looking for things. If you don’t give shit, you’d be away. You told me you’re on bike, except the fact that your iron horse got trouble.”

“You dunno shit ‘bout me,” Daryl frowned. He still didn’t want to tell Rick about what he actually did all day. He looked for a house, an old southern farmhouse because someone told him to. He did, but he was disappointed. He still got upset and knew Rick could be a jerk sometimes. In fact, he was truly a skeptical and moody person. 

“Yeah, I don’t know anything,” Rick moved the can carefully and put it in front of Daryl. 

Daryl pouted and looked at Rick before shifted to the food, “I went back to yer house for Morley, and I found sumthin’ else in your boy’s room,” he showed the Hersey’s chocolate box, “I hope you don’t mind.”

Rick got stunned for a moment, “ah, that’s Carl’s treasure,” he turned blue for a moment he recalled his beloved son and the fact that they weren’t around. 

“Hey, you okay?” Daryl got unpleasant feeling by making Rick remembered his son, “ ‘m sorry.”

The sheriff looked at the guilty expression in the redneck’s face, “it’s alright,” he chuckled.

“Uh,” Daryl mumbled, “you mind if I take some?” he asked like a little kid. 

Rick couldn’t resist laughing, “you can take ‘em all, Daryl,” he said. He came to the statement that Daryl was cute sometimes. 

Daryl opened the assorted miniature chocolate pack and took one of them after picking the favorite flavor, “you don’t like chocolate?” he asked. 

“No, not really. Carl did. I prefer other food and chocolate is the last thing I’ll eat,” Rick took the first sip of his soup. 

“This stuff is good,” Daryl chewed the tiny bar and looked up like he tried to remember something. 

“I know. I keep some from the scavenging this morning, gonna eat them later,” Rick nodded. He didn’t know exactly what made him keep smiling, but Daryl’s weird adorableness could be the answer, “hey your soup is gonna get cold.”

“Right,” Daryl put the box next to his crossbow and taking his meal. 

Rick finished earlier. He accidentally noticed a small notebook fell from Daryl’s backpack. There was a small piece of paper slipped out of it. He didn’t want to do any intervention, but he was curious as always. He took the paper and realized it was a photo of a girl with long pale blonde hair. 

Daryl snatched the photo away from Rick’s hand, “thought you know what privacy is, Officer Friendly,” he scolded. 

“I’m sorry, man,” Rick apologized, “I didn’t mean to,”

“Fuck you,” Daryl hissed and put the photo back into the book and secured it inside the backpack.

“Hey come on,” Rick pleaded, “if she’s the one you’re lookin’ for. I don’t mind to help you. We can find her.”

Daryl glared behind the lock of his hair, “can you just shut the fuck up?” he scorned.

“I know you’re looking for her,” Rick tried to explain. 

“She died!” Daryl snapped. He stood up and threw the soup away, “stop tellin me that you know things, sheriff!”

“Sorry, Daryl, I don’t…” 

“I don’t wanna hear your bullshit anymore. You were no longer a cop. Look at you, you’re just the same crap like you yesterday, being left like a total shit. Everybody‘s gone and you don’t even know why. You don’t know any single fuckin thing!” Daryl exploded after Rick ignited his real trouble. 

Rick didn’t say anything. He could just sense the ferocious anger in Daryl and didn’t have guts to look at him after. 

“You should be left out there because no one really cared bout you, a useless dyin’ son of bitch and I shouldn’t giving shit bout it,” Daryl kicked the can and moved away. 

Rick’s mouth was slightly opened. He palmed his face and went mindless in sudden. He had no idea about what he had to do. He tried to apologize and be sorry, but Daryl was a way more like sensitive than what he thought. It would be a trouble. That man saved his life and now he tried to ruin his. You are dumbfuck, Rick! He cursed at heart. 

Knowing he was totally wrong, Rick couldn’t deny how Daryl’s words were more or less the same hurtful. It made him thinking about Lori and Carl left him because he got useless and unworthy anymore. Who would take care of a comatose patient when cataclysm happened? Of course people prioritized to save their own lives and those who had better chance to survive, more than just a dying man who would constantly died when the electricity gone. 

But, Daryl was the only person he should come along with. So far, he was the most humane person he ever met. He didn’t lie about anything. He didn’t stab his back. He didn’t trick him. He was a jerk, but he was a good man inside. The reason Daryl wanted to keep his private things is needed to be respected. 

Rick had to make up with Daryl. No excuse. 

Daryl sat on a hays covered floor, rested his back on the square bale. His face hid behind the shade of his hair locks. He kept the distance from the other man, looked like a wild animal refused to be touched. He was sensitive and defensive as hell. A man like him didn’t need to be understood or be calmed down. He liked to take care of himself with his own way. And, he didn’t like to compromise, he did what he needed to do. A Daryl Dixon never gave shit to anyone, no matter who they were. 

“Dar…” Rick sighed and pulled his words back when he realized Daryl looked at him. He could even know how those eyes glaring sharply at him behind those locks of hair.

The redneck shifted his position. He didn’t want to see that face anymore. That face of a sheriff in town who was trapped in the wrecked hospital, crying for help and being useless made him getting upset. He hated the sheriff deputy because he acted like he knew everything. He hated when someone tried to mess with his private life because he never trust anyone, especially those who were just coming around. Except for some people, like the beautiful girl on the photo. 

Rick trembled as the cold night wind blew into the barn. The fire was getting small and he blew it out. He moved to his truck and slept on the seat. Daryl wasn’t seen around but he was sure he still stayed inside the barn. Getting in the truck was even colder than outside. He thought it would be warmer to rest in a closed space, but he was wrong. He trembled worse than before, he wanted to move back to the haystacks, but without jacket, it would be the same. So he stayed inside the trucks, curled up like an outdoor cat. 

 

Beyond his consciousness, Rick could tell himself that the morning already came. He opened his eyes slowly and then staring at the truck window for seconds. The peeking subtle light made him sure it was morning. But he barely intended to get up. Morning wind blew up coldly to his face, but so weird he felt so warm. He curled up again and realized how comfortable it was. Then he looked down and found himself covered in thick Indian woven poncho. No wonder it was so snuggly. 

He remembered how cold last night was, but he ended up in the seat with no cover. Somebody knew he was so miserable and put the poncho on him. Nobody was here except that one redneck.

Daryl. 

Rick stretched his legs and arms. He kept wrapping himself with the poncho and get out of the truck. He wondered where Daryl was. A little kind of anxiety fulfilled his mind, thinking that the redneck probably already left after last night. But his motorbike was still on the truck bed, and the fire was on. Daryl was still around. 

Rick could hear creaking sound from above. He tilted his head in suspicion and realized it came from the hayloft. So silly he just forgot that there was a hayloft in the barn. He should be there last night, must be much better and warmer than inside the car. Founding the ladder, he climbed up the hayloft. 

Daryl was there, sitting on the narrow threshold looking out of the barn. A cigarette was burn in his hand. He wore his grey wings vest like usual, but he added a long sleeve flannel shirt inside to cover from the cold. It seemed like he was awake so much earlier, or even stayed alert all night.

“I didn’t notice this hayloft yesterday,” Rick tried to open a conversation. He occupied the small empty space beside Daryl. 

Daryl hummed, glanced at the other man for seconds and returned to gaze the empty grassland outside. He looked up at the spinning windmill and closing his eyes to enjoy the cold blowing wind. 

“Hey, thank you for the poncho,” Rick took the poncho off and folded it neatly before handed it back to the owner. 

The redneck looked at Rick, moved to the poncho and turned back to his face. He pouted and nodded, “yeah,” he took the poncho and put it aside. Then he remembered the half empty cream soup can next to him. It seemed like he was too full to take it all down.

“Thanks, Daryl,” Rick smiled when Daryl handed him the can of soup. He accepted it. It was cold all night and he woke up starving. A half of big canned soup wasn’t bad for breakfast. It would fill him up better. 

They didn’t talk. Rick enjoyed the breakfast with no sound while Daryl was busy smoking his cigarette. There was a hint of unpleasant feeling in each other’s mind. Rick felt so sorry to remind Daryl about the girl and Daryl was guilty to scorn Rick that way, even told him that he was useless. 

“Sorry about last night,” Rick encouraged himself to speak. 

“It doesn’t matter. Just got all tore up. Sorry bout that too,” Daryl muttered. He looked down at his boots. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Rick continued, “sorry about your loss.”

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. He was feeling like cut by sharp knife every time he remembered the girl, and her death. 

Rick finally learned what Daryl actually looking at. He pointed his eyes to an old farmhouse outside the barn. It was quite far, a big private property secured by barbed wire. 

“Look, there’s a farmhouse out there,” Rick said.

Daryl nodded.

“You wanna check it out?” Rick asked. 

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head, “I’d been there yesterday. No one around, they died.”

Rick sighed, “I knew you must be somewhere around here, all day long.”

Daryl scoffed, “how’d you know that?”

“I found you in the roadside, in the access to the farm. It must be something different for you. I didn’t see you scavenge anything from that house, only some chocolate you found in Carl’s room. So sorry about my rudeness, Daryl, but I know something affected you pretty much after you were there. Like when you got mad at me last night,” Rick explained slowly and very carefully. He didn’t want to make more troubles with this one redneck. 

“You paid attention very well, sheriff,” Daryl snorted.

“I feel stupid,” Rick shrugged, “I know you’re not gonna say anything about that too,” he got up and left. 

“I buried ‘em in the backyard,” Daryl said in sudden. 

Rick stopped and walked back closer to the redneck. 

“Three of ‘em died a longtime ago. They got sick. Dug up another two next to the house. They survived for some time but got butchered. Maybe captured by the maneaters, ain’t got nothin’ but the chopped skeletons. I buried all of ‘em,” Daryl recalled. His face looked so sad, like Rick never saw before.

Rick returned to his previously occupied seat next to Daryl. He could clearly see the difference before and after Daryl told him about the family in the farmhouse, “who are they?”

Daryl looked at Rick. His eyes expressed something a way more like a submission and trust, not defense and skepticism like before. Then he took something out of his flannel shirt pocket. It was a family photo. 

Rick scanned every face in the picture. They were just complete strangers. An old man with younger middle aged woman, a young boy, another man and woman who looked like a couple, and two girls, one looked older with short brown hair and the younger had big eyes and long blonde hair. He later remembered the blonde girl very well.

“It’s her family,” Rick said. He thought at the tragic end of that family and remembered his own. 

Daryl nodded, “her name’s Beth,” he bit his thumb fingernail, “she asked me to look for her family. I did and found nothin’, cudn’t tell anyone that she’s gone because they’re gone too.”

“I’m sorry Daryl,” Rick felt guilty again after telling Daryl the whole shit.

“It’s okay,” Daryl snorted but ended up like whimpered. 

“Oh, hey,” Rick almost touching Daryl’s arm to calm him down but he hold back. 

“It’s done, ain’t got nothin’ to do anymore,” Daryl took another cigarette. He stood up and headed down to the ladder.

“You can come with me if you want,” Rick said but it seemed like the redneck didn’t listen, or didn’t want to. 

Rick stayed for a moment on the hayloft. The sun rose and shone for a while before big gray clouds blocked out in the sky and everything turned gloomy. Even the wind blew colder than before and thunder started rumbling. It seemed like the death was ready to come from the sky. Or it already did. Things could change extremely drastic only in five months. He heard about the extreme climate change for these last two years but never imagined everything would turn up a mess this bad. Five months ago the outbreak began, started from the virus infected plants, contaminated animals and acted on human. Uncontrollable rainfall followed by storms and floods. What didn’t make sense was this all happened in some kind of short-termed serial occurrences but added up to an endless misery for living. Cannibalism was one of the worst products of cataclysm. Cannibalism meant fear that created more fears. It was a turning point of humanity. The symbol of civilization collapse. 

There were no governments and armed forces anymore. Infections killed the weak, no matter who they were. There were bombings to stop the outbreak, but it wasted more lives than it should be. Military camps were once built in every place, but it didn’t last. People still died and forced the surviving ones to leave. Nobody knew what happened outside the states, but in fact, these were all the apocalyptic stage of global outbreaks. People died. Everywhere. 

When Rick moved down he found Daryl worked on his motorbike. He removed the flannel shirt and his vest, only cut-off sleeveless old shirt left. He looked like working hard to fix his bike. Rick wasn’t into motorcycle things, so he couldn’t help anything. 

“Maybe you need more stuff to fix it. We can break in a workshop nearby, scavenge something for your bike,” Rick said. He couldn’t tell himself why he didn’t want Daryl to go away. He kept trying to make him stay close. 

“Ain’t got no time to stop by, just need some grease,” Daryl refused the offer, “found some around the tractor, fairly done.”

“Okay,” Rick shrugged and moved to his truck. He checked on his weapons and the food. Time flew and he didn’t have to waste more. He had to move. But he still needed a map.

“Where will you headin’ to?” Daryl tried the rear shifter in his bike. 

“I don’t know. Need some map, and I’m gonna try the shortest route to go north,” Rick answered. 

“Then you can have it,” Daryl cleaned his greased hands up with a rag before handed a folded piece of map to Rick. 

“Where’d you get this?” Rick unfolded the map. It was a detail North America map. 

“Beth’s house,” Daryl pouted and just drew Rick’s attention, “I ain’t good in readin’ map, kinda piddlin’ around, just take it.”

“Thanks. Again, Daryl,” Rick smirked, “you helped me so much these days.”

Daryl smirked back behind his messy scruffs, “you gimme foods, don’t need to say.”

“I know you no longer got things to do around here, so where will you go?” Rick curiously asked. It was a way more like worriedly. 

Daryl shrugged, “I dunno, maybe just layin’ up here all day, maybe gonna headin’ north too, but better on my own.”

“Still got something to look for, someone, I reckon,” Rick guessed. He had a sharp intuition, though it wasn’t always worked on some people, this worked on Daryl. This redneck connected with him in a very strange and unexplainable way. 

“You bet, sheriff,” Daryl put his vest on and nearly checking his motorbike engine. 

“You could say that I’m the most annoying person you ever seen in your life, but let me help you. I’m gonna go north, and you too. So let me come with you. I’m looking for my family, you’re on someone you belong to. You’ve been out there for so long, all alone, why don’t you let someone to get along with you? I’m not a maneater and not gonna kill or hurt you. I’m just too grateful. I need to help you back,” Rick finally spilled every word he needed to tell to Daryl since last night. 

Daryl got on his seat, throttling his bike and turning away, “I can take care of myself,” he said.

“Yeah, you can. But I know you have a mission too, you could say I don’t know anything, but I know you’re desperate to find a way by yourself. You could be tough out there, I’m not as tough as you are, but I have a heart. I can let someone in desperation like you going out alone, no matter how strong you are, you’re vulnerable. You mind your business but shitty people will come around you. They will kill you,” Rick tried, once more.

“You dunno anything about me, Grimes,” Daryl shook his head, “you best thinking about yer own.”

“I’m just trying to help. That someone you looking for could be in the same place with my folks. Why don’t we just go? We have the same mission, that’s the deal. I see that your problem is all about you don’t know me and you don’t want anyone to get too close to you. I know you don’t trust people, but I trust you,” Rick hoped these were the last words he needed to say. 

Rick could see the expression changed in Daryl’s face when he mentioned the last words. He trusted Daryl. The redneck bit his thumb fingernail in a nervous way. He looked at Rick’s eyes in skepticism. That was a skeptical look about to believe what the sheriff said or about his own disbelief that someone trusted him that much. 

“I promise you, I’m not gonna stab your back. If I wanna kill you, I’ve killed you in the first place. But I didn’t and I won’t. I know you never trust anyone like me. I just knew you two days ago, but I don’t argue on how I trust you. You saved my life, and that’s why I believe that you’re a decent man,” Rick broke his promised. He said much more and didn’t notice how his face looked like a little kitten begging for cuddle in Daryl’s eyes. He exactly looked that way. He always looked that way when he tried to convince people.

Daryl scoffed after a long moment of silence. He thought hard but now he decided, “good words, sheriff. Help me takin’ this iron horse up your truck. It’s gonna comin’ up a cloud, ain’t got no other boots, better stay dry,” he said. 

Rick sighed and chuckled. He hated Daryl’s response were in just mere words, but he tried to understand him. They could be friends and he aimed to. So he did what the redneck told. 

It was bucketing down outside, but Rick kept driving. They chose the west route like Daryl said. The highway didn’t mess up by car dumps, a way better than going through Atlanta. Daryl didn’t good at reading map but knew about the situation very well, Rick was the otherwise, so they could help each other. 

“So weird, why’d the rain turns black like this?” Rick asked over his curiosity about the dark colored water fell from the sky. It blocked his sight to the road pretty bad, forced him to go slow and careful. The wipers worked hard to clean up the windshield. 

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded, “people said it was ashes, that’s why the daylight always gloomy as fuck, it said some kinda ashes covered the sky, comin’ from the north.”

Rick frowned, “from the north? You told me people go north, but if the ashes coming up from there, it means something.”

“Some areas had worse forest fire than around here. Things got pretty weird these days because this is apocalypse, ya hear?” Daryl yawned and stretched. 

“Yeah,” Rick said, “this is apocalypse, so that’s why we need to work together, that’s a survival thing too.”

Daryl hummed and bit his fingernail like a silly little kid. 

“I know you’ll be bored to answer all of my questions, but I’m a curious person. Because I don’t know anything, I need to learn from you,” Rick said.

“Go ahead. I ain’t gonna tell what I dunno, ask me what you like to know about this shit,” Daryl mumbled.

“You told me how people changed into cannibals because the lack of food and they didn’t move away. You got the same problem because you stayed, but how it made them cannibals and you’re not?” for Rick this was one of the most important things to ask. 

“I hunted animals in the woods, anythin’, possum, snake my fav is squirrel. I scavenged worms too. But people are damn fool, they had no good survival skill because they just layin’ up in their flats all day, livin’ in modern shits, it hardened them when shit happened. They didn’t know how to survive and that’s why they turned insane. They ain’t ready for a tough life, so they chose shortcuts. Some eatin’ dogs and cats, but they died, cause those animals were infected too. Only animals livin’ in the woods were good meal, but people didn’t know how to get food from the wild, 'cause they had Walmart. Eating human flesh is gross, ya know, it kills you,” Daryl wriggled in the passenger seat like he was uncomfortable with something. 

“So cannibalism is a part of ignorance and insanity. I heard that human flesh is dangerous to consume, especially the brains. So you’re right that cannibals will die fast,” Rick smiled.

“Exactly,” Daryl yawned again. It made Rick believed that this redneck stayed awake all night.

Rick giggled, “Thanks for your explanation. Well, I don’t mean to set you up, but maybe you can tell me why you finally come along with me. What really makes you change your mind, Daryl?” 

No answer.

“Daryl?” Rick raised his eyebrows. 

The redneck was already asleep. His head lolled back, revealed more parts of his face than usual. This was the first time Rick could clearly see his profile along with some little scars and bruises around his temple and forehead. His tiny lips slightly parted and Rick noticed a small wound in the lower lip like caused by some kind of fighting before. His strong neck muscles stretched as his head tilted and Rick just found more scars. Daryl exactly had very hard times before meet him. 

Rick had moving slow but now he got to push the brake. He glanced at the backseat where Daryl secured his portable saddlebags, backpack and crossbow. The backpack was unzipped and he took a look at the redneck for a moment. 

Daryl curled up, put his legs up and held them with his forearms with both hands covered each of his bare well-toned arms. He looked drowsy and cold. So, Rick took the rumpled poncho out of the backpack, and covered Daryl’s upper body, for sure, his bare arms which he tried to cover.

Rick stared at the redneck for a moment to wait him reacted. Perhaps he would refuse, resisted or started cursing at him. But Daryl just made a little whimper. He felt comfortable with the sudden warmth of his poncho and continued sleeping. He didn’t even bother to show Rick how childish he looked like when he slept. Twice already. 

The dark grey colored rain was getting heavier. Rick turned the engine on again and started moving slow. At least they got to go further. 

Rick kept shifting his eyes between the road and Daryl’s face. He recalled how wild he looked like last night when he was powered by anger and now he turned into a little boy, sleeping peacefully in his seat, snuggling up a warm poncho. 

Rick smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry (but not really sorry) about the poncho thing, Daryl's poncho is perfect tbh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the road is getting tougher

The rain almost stopped at midday. Rick continued driving west slowly. He kept dividing his attention to both the road and the sleeping Daryl. The redneck still snuggled with his poncho. He looked so exhausting. Sleeping at Rick’s house a couple days ago was nothing. He just slept few hours that time. In fact, he didn’t sleep at all for more than two days before he met Rick in the hospital. Two days without sleep and kept riding a motorbike was too tough. So this was a kind of revenge. 

It was afternoon already when Daryl opened his eyes. He blinked repeatedly and yawned. Then he stretched his arms and legs. He was a cat man, actually. 

“How was your sleep?” Rick asked.

“Uh, not bad,” Daryl mumbled. He looked down at his poncho covered body and hummed.

“We’re gonna out of Georgia soon,” Rick glanced at the tousle haired redneck.

Daryl nodded. He pouted, opened the dashboard and took a gulp of water from the bottle. He wiped the droplets in his goatie with the back of his hand. Looking at Rick for a moment and offered the drink.

Rick smirked, “thank you,” he got the bottle and took one gulp. He even forgot how long he didn’t drink since he started driving.

“It ain’t raining anymore. Stop the truck, ‘m gonna ride ma horse,” he looked out of the window.

This redneck didn’t like to be argued, so Rick stopped the truck and helped him took the motorbike down. 

They moved again. Daryl knew the route, he rode in front, a kind of guiding Rick in his way. The air was still cold and the road was wet after the rain, but the sun unlikely shone quite bright in the west. Daryl let the cold air blew his hair off of his face. The world stayed silent, and had been that way for some times. He always enjoyed riding in such situation. He always liked to be alone even before the outbreak began. On the dead road riding a motorbike made he felt like a king of his own. 

Rick drove behind Daryl. He kept staring at the lousy grey wings in the back of his vest. Every time he looked at it, he always assumed that it had a great story behind. Daryl didn’t answer his question about the reason yet, but he was pretty sure he started to build a trust in him. He didn’t notice how much he paid attention against the redneck since they met in the hospital. Just like this moment when he looked how free Daryl was while riding his motorbike and how he conquered the road like a real badass. 

Sun started to set in the west. The road was still there, covered in shadows and vague twilight color. They had to be patient, moving through lifeless suburbs. Empty barns, uninhabited farmhouses, arid fields, dried grasslands, dead valleys and hills, all faded into black as the sun died soon. The only left was just the big blood red hint in the west sky.

Daryl turned the headlight on, so did Rick. They already passed the west border of Georgia but had to look for a place to stop by. It had been hours since they moved and they needed a little chilling time. Rick’s truck headlight already spotted a board welcoming them to Alabama. Some good spots to rest must be around too. 

Their way turned to be an uphill road but they kept moving. Daryl accelerated his bike to reach the other side of the road first. Rick followed and started seeing something wrong. A mirage reflected in the sky. He drove closer and saw Daryl stopped at the uphill top. Then he just pushed the brake before jumped down. 

Rick walked closer to Daryl and realized that something eventually happened. 

Forest fire. A big forest fire across the downhill road below, spreading along the landscape like it had no end. The fire was extremely big, it already crossed the road, and they couldn’t go through it anymore. 

“What a forest fire,” Rick shook his head, “this is the biggest shit I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Just another answer for your question about the black rain,” Daryl lit a cigarette. 

“So what now? We choose another route?” Rick asked. 

“Too far. This is the only good one. I went through this place when I headed to Alabama, few days after the outbreak began. I’ve seen the others, people went those ways, it’s now full of dead shits, you ain’t gonna go through,” Daryl dragged his cigarette. 

“Well, we better stay here tonight and move tomorrow,” Rick said, “gonna think ‘bout stuff and things but we gotta eat now.”

Daryl pursed his lips. He almost smiled after hearing Rick’s stuff and things and just found out how weird the sheriff was. He was sure he heard thangs and not things. 

“Alright,” he nodded and bit his thumbnail. 

Rick made a small fire on the roadside. They started heating canned pork and enjoying it not so long after. They were a little bit starving and finished the meal really quick. Rick was full but Daryl still chewed a small bar of Hershey. 

“I remembered about those men, I mean the maneaters we killed in the sheriff station,” Rick started, “well, I shot some numbers of criminals to death back then. But that thing is kinda new for me.”

“I thought ‘bout the same thing in the first place, but I learned so much,” Daryl wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after drinking his water, “I started with a group of survivors in Mississippi a month after the outbreak started. That was the worst part when people got insane. Crops died, so did livestock, lack of food, disease and starving spread like wildfire in weeks. I took ‘em to hunt when we cudn’t scavenge anymore, but they didn’t git it. They couldn’t face a thug life, ain’t their thing. Many of ‘em gettin’ sick soon. One day I returned from hunting ‘sum squirrels. I found they killed the weak ones and eat one of ‘em. They grilled a leg and an arm. That was the grossest thing I’ve ‘ver seen in ma life.”

“So you caught your group members ate the others? They refused eating hunted animals but prefer human flesh? That sounds stupid.” Rick put more dried woods into the fire. 

“Yeah,” Daryl started again, “that’s the part I learned it’s a kinda disease, maybe sorta psycho thing. They lost their mind. I tryna found out why but it ain’t the real shit. They turned into ‘sumthin like zombies. Uh, they talked like us, but they’re sick inside. Once they got human flesh, they ‘cudn’t go back. People who eat human flesh, even for just once, they ain’t gettin’ chance to be normal anymore. Ya hear? The only way to stop ‘em is just by killin’ ‘em. Sooner or later, they’re gonna die by the flesh eatin’ shit, but as long as they’re alive, they’re gonna hunt ya, and eat ya.” 

Rick got a little unpleasant feeling to hear Daryl’s story, especially the part of to kill or to be killed. He realized how this redneck learned much. He knew things and knew what to do. So maybe his words were true.

“Did they try to eat you?”

Daryl nodded, “not only once they tried to swing an axe against ma head. That’s the moment I realized cannibalism is a kinda virus. It’s infected and shit. Ain’t gonna get killed, I killed ‘em all. They’re the first people I killed in my fuckin’ whole life,” he bowed down, like he didn’t really want to recall anything about it. He witnessed how people dying, killing each other and eating their own kind. If he had a choice, he chose not to remember anything, but things always followed him anywhere he goes. His life had been thug long before the apocalypse but it didn’t make him face reality with no difference. The change mattered, it affected his life more than he ever imagined. He had to kill them and was forcibly put into the game. 

Daryl had killed more people within five months than Rick ever did in his whole career. 

He had no choice.

It was to kill or to be killed. 

Rick tried to understand the circumstance. It wasn’t the world he used to live anymore. There was no law but law of nature. But this was more than just survival of the fittest. There was a little bit mercy in this merciless fate. The mercy to free someone from their miserable life. Taking somebody’s life was a big mistake, but in the world without cure, the only thing to take care of them was free them from desperation and suffering. This world was built for them who could survive and keeping the way they were. Keeping mind from being insane was the real game. So many people failed in this game, they fell into insanity and they died somehow. 

“Bad as I hate to, but I hafta tell you the truth,” Daryl muttered, “welcome to the game, Grimes.”

Rick didn’t say any word. He kept staring at the fire he made. His mind was fulfilled by the memory about Lori, Carl and their sweet moments before things happened. He would never let them go away forever. He had to look for them. And if his was the game and he had to play, he had to go through. Play to win or to lose. Survive or die. Kill or to be killed. 

 

It had been three weeks since they moved to the west. They moved back to the east. Rick and Daryl survived in the road for so long and couldn’t even get to South Carolina. Trouble came in over and over. Another unexpected forest fire, a sudden storm that forced them to stay, and a group of maneaters that pushed them into an intense and hateful firefight for survival. They overcame any trouble together, arms to arms and start building a better trust in each other. 

“There’s a prison a mile out there,” Daryl shouted from his bike. 

“We gotta be there, storm is gonna come soon,” Rick shouted back through his truck window.

Daryl nodded and led the way to the prison he was talking about. 

 

They stopped in front of the wire gate. It was seriously a penitentiary complex in north Georgia. This place looked more than enough to be a shelter from the storm, much better than old barns. But they had to inspect this area. Maneaters could be everywhere. An abandoned prison was an ideal place to hide and to prey another human being who accidentally stopped by. 

Rick and Daryl were not just mere human beings who could be easily trapped. Rick learned much from Daryl and his own experience, while Daryl did from his own. Both expected to be the fittest to survive in this game. They shouldn’t be easily tricked and would never let them to be. 

“New tracks,” Daryl said as he studying a shoes track in the dried mud. 

“A nice surprise, I reckon,” Rick cocked his Remington 870. He equipped himself with enough ammo, his Colt Python and a switchblade while left the other in the locked truck outside the outer fence. 

They moved closely to the prison with no sound. They left the vehicles in distance to make sure they didn’t make any noise. The new tracks led to two cars in the parking lot. Surely some people stayed here, they just couldn’t make sure whether they were maneaters or not. Pretty lucky, they found no one in the watchtower. 

Daryl stayed alert with crossbow pointed and Safari rifle slung over his shoulder just in case. He steadied his pace, moved very carefully, agile but soundless like when he tracked animals in hunting game. They started moving into the cellblock A. 

It was quite dark inside the building without electricity. High windows secured with bars provided some gloomy light but enough to ease Rick and Daryl to move. They started hearing something vaguely but sounded like coming from distance. The longer they inspected the cell they realized that no one was there. The sound must coming from another cellblock. 

They found an exit that headed to a fenced yard and stopped immediately. Rick stared blankly at the most disgusting view he ever seen in his whole life. Daryl just mumbled some inaudible swearing words behind him. 

The fenced yard was full of at least ten dead bodies, left only in bones and some of them were killed not so long ago. The red flesh still lingered on the bones, and the blood on the floor wasn’t even dried yet. Three human heads hanging at the stakes, fresh blood still dripped from one of them. Intestines and other internal organs just left out there among the piles of bones and rumpled clothes taken off from the bodies. Flies buzzing and maggots creeping made disgusting carcass smelled much worse. 

Rick choked. He looked at Daryl and didn’t notice how pale he was. He grunted, put his hands on his knees and threw up on the floor.

Daryl sighed. It seemed like he was already getting used with such thing, but he knew Rick wasn’t. It was pretty normal for people who never seen something gore and smelly like that. He was a hunter, so carcass and the smell were pretty usual. He had seen cannibal butchery before, more than once during the outbreak. It was insane beyond words, but he tried to get used with it. 

“Let’s move. Those pricks gonna say hello,” Daryl glanced at Rick who leaned against the wall wiping his mouth. He pointed at the smoke from one part of the prison.

They moved past the fenced yard toward the next cellblock. Rick glanced at the pile of clothes, covered in blood and he noticed a piece of children outfit on it. His feeling was getting worse. These survivors were maneaters and they probably already preyed human children. It disturbed his mind ever more. 

Daryl made a sign to stop. His finger pointed at a group of people seen on another fenced yard in the other cellblock. They surely heard their chattering and laughter. Those peoples were seen with guns and rifles. They were armed and both Daryl and Rick needed to be more alert.

Daryl and Rick paced closely to every wall and fences, made sure they were covered well before approaching the fence door that was connected to the other block. They smelled grilled meat and Rick was getting more nauseated than before. He remembered it was coming from human, guessing it could be ribs or legs. 

Rick moved on the front, in this case, he would doing better. He would do what he used to do in police operation back then. Shotgun was pointed and his finger was ready on the right place. He moved carefully to the strategic standpoint between the wire cuts before started firing. Daryl positioned himself a little lower than Rick. He slung the crossbow over his shoulder and was ready with his rifle. 

Clicking sound was heard. Daryl’s eyes were on the sight. He picked the first potential target, it must be a man who guarded the others who enjoyed their meals. He got both hands ready on the rifle, so Daryl picked him up to be the first fallen one. 

Rick gave a small sign to shoot. And then they shot. The fire range was perfect, so was the standpoint. Two could win against more than ten if they were lucky. But one side with more people and more weapons wasn’t a thing to go play with. It was pretty serious. If both of them lost focus, they would pay the price with their head. Literally it must be their head because now bullets started running against them. Someone was already on the watchtower, firing at Daryl’s and Rick’s feet. 

“Takeover the watchtower, you got better chance to waste ‘em up there,” Rick said in between his catching breath and bullets twanging against the iron fencepost. 

Daryl nodded. He moved away from the shootout through the fenced hallway. Running fast but no one ever noticed because they were panicked by the sudden attack. He knew Rick was in big trouble now and he had to be quick. Someone else guarded the watchtower door. Thinking so hard, he made his way from behind the tower, sneaking with hunting knife already on his hand. His rifle was secured in his other shoulder while he put his hand over the man’s mouth. Then he stabbed him on his neck, left the man fell down lifelessly, gushing with his own blood.

It worked better than using the rifle. The man was killed without sound and the other on the watchtower had no idea about what happened either. So, Daryl made a steady pace at the moment he opened the door. He prepared his crossbow on his way before climbing the ladder up. One hand on the railing and the other on the crossbow handle wasn’t an easy thing to do, but it was Daryl no matter what. 

He made it and left no sound behind the watchman who was shooting at Rick from the window. Daryl pointed his crossbow at the man. Before turning his back after realize someone was behind, Daryl shot right at his nape. He fell down and Daryl took the rifle over to shoot at the other maneaters. He saw Rick was still there, hid behind a fencepost, extremely vulnerable to be shot. Some of the men approached him and Daryl couldn’t just stay up here in the watchtower. He had to stop them. And he made it easier than it looked like. 

Rick kept trying to shoot at his position. His shotgun slowed him because he needed reloading continually. It was a mistake to take those shotguns, he was supposed to take more rifles. From his standpoint, he could see everyone was down. No one was standing in his sight, but he shifted his eyes to the watchtower. Daryl was attacked by someone and he could see they fought each other barehanded. 

Couldn’t wait any longer, Rick ran over the dead bodies and went up the watchtower. He witnessed how that man tried to beat Daryl down. He was much bigger compared to the redneck who was laying on the floor, got choked and tried to fight back ripping that awful face off. 

Colt Python was clicked. It paused the moment and both the fighting men looked at the one who was ready with his weapon of choice. 

“Stay fucking away from him,” Rick growled. He put the gun muzzle closely to the man’s nape.

The man put his hands up and moved away from Daryl. 

“You take a look down there,” Rick hissed, “your men are dead, so do you. Now you tell us who you are and what you were doin’ here, before I blow your fuckin head off.”

The man swallowed hard, “we are survivors, from Montgomery. We just try to survive here.”

“Dammit, you’re maneaters, ain’t ya?” Daryl wiped blood from his nose, “you barbecued ‘em, people, some kids too, ya sick bastards!” 

“I know you trapped people in this place and then killed them before you ate them,” Rick said, “You’re not survivors, you’re cannibals, people killers, human flesh eaters. You fucking sick people. I know you’ve been here for so long, doing shit all the time,” he pulled the gun from the man’s nape, and turned to face him before put the gun on his forehead. 

The man smiled, “We just tried to survive,” he insisted.

“You ain’t gonna survive by eating human flesh. Just gonna die fast, ya hear?” Daryl got himself up.

The man snorted. He shifted his eyes between Daryl and Rick, “we’re gonna die, all of us. This is a survival instinct, nothing is wrong with stay alive a lil’ longer. Others got weak to make us stronger,” this man literally was a diehard cannibal. 

“Stop bullshiting us. You killed children, that’s not a part of survival. Take it, you’re infected,” Rick pushed the gun more painfully.

“Children are weak, they’re dead somehow. So, what are you gonna do now? You’re gonna arrest me, cops?” he mocked.

“No, I’m gonna blow your head off,” Rick leaned forward.

“Hey,” Daryl tried to stop something happened, “ain’t worthy to kill this shit,” he was fulfilled with an unpleasant feeling about things if they really killed the man, though sometimes they had to. 

Rick glanced at Daryl to say something when the man made a sudden movement. He tried to take Rick’s gun from his hand. It put both of them instantly into a fight. 

Daryl cursed when the man pointed the gun at Rick. He grabbed Rick’s abandoned shotgun on the floor. Before the man pulling the trigger, he did it first with the shotgun. A deafening sound of firing gun fulfilled the small room. Things seemed like moving into a slow motion as Rick saw how the man fell down. Brain was scattered along with blood and skull breaking into pieces. His head was completely ruined by a shotgun bullet. 

They looked at each other for a moment without words.

“Sorry, I just got so damn fool,” Daryl shook his head in guilt. 

“It’s okay,” Rick nodded, “thank you,” he snatched the gun from the dead man’s hand. 

They left the watchtower, dragging the dead man’s body down. They should bury them, liked it or not. Both stared at the bodies on the yard. So unbelievable, they took down a group of well armed people, more dangerous than they ever met before. 

Rick stared at the grill in the center of the yard. They walked closely, passed it by to take shovels, but they stopped. 

“They deserved to die,” Rick muttered as he noticed the small legs, burning in the still smoking grill. 

“Shit,” Daryl swore. He knew it was children’s body part and kicked the grill to put the fire off. 

“Storm is close. We get to be hurry,” Rick headed to cellblock C. 

Daryl slung the rifle on his shoulder and prepared his crossbow. He looked at the neglected weapons on the floor belong to the maneaters and thought to check them out later. 

They made their steps steady when the door behind was closed. It was darker in this place because the light outside was blocked by another building. Everything sensed gloomier as well. It was clearly silent all along the hallway as they even could hear their own steps. Rick clicked his Colt Python when they started hearing iron bar creaking. Both startled a little bit for the eerie sobbing came from an unknown corner of the building. 

Someone or some people must be here. Either they were maneaters or their victims. 

They inspected every hallway and every floor to find the source of the voices. It sounded clearer as they moved into one corner where carcass smell started hitting their nostrils. They looked at each other before cursing all the way of it. 

_“Holy shit!”_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems like they were going to stay in that prison, longer than they had expected to.

Three dead bodies were locked on a cell and they started decomposing. What made both Daryl and Rick struck in shock was one living person who trapped in the same cell. It was a woman, extremely anorexic and looked lifeless. She cried, begging in some inaudible words. 

“Help me,” she begged and started to crawl toward them. 

Daryl and Rick looked at each other for seconds. They honestly did not know what to do to help that woman. She was helpless and maggots fell from the cut of her leg. Someone cut it. 

“Who are you?” Rick moved into squatting position as the woman reached the cell bar. 

The woman looked at Rick’s eyes in the most hurtful way the man ever seen, “I’m Karen. We were looking for shelter when we arrived here. We lived here for a while with the remaining food stock we had. This place was quite safe until they came up and they wasted us one by one,” she said in slow and sad voice that made both Rick and Daryl got goosebumps. 

“We had no good weapons,” Karen continued, “so we couldn’t fight back. They took my husband and one of my girls. I knew what they did to them,” she sobbed. 

Rick remembered the little leg on the grill and the children clothes on the pile, “we already killed all of them, now you don’t need to worry anymore. We’ll help you out,” he said, glancing over Daryl who took keys out of his trousers pocket. He snatched it from the man in the watchtower. 

“You really killed them?” Karen looked at both Daryl and Rick. The redneck nodded at her. 

“We gonna get you out of here and find something to take care of your wounds,” Rick looked at the maggot infected wound.

Daryl unlocked the cell door after occupying his mind for a moment to choose the right key. He tried to pull Karen’s shoulder up but she refused. 

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” she asked both of the man.

“I’m Rick, and he’s Daryl. We’re from Georgia, we survive and trying to go north. You can come with us if you want to,” Rick answered. He turned really sad as he remembered Lori when he looked at her face and her eyes. 

“You don’t come to eat people?” the woman asked skeptically.

“Nah. We don’t eat people, kill maneaters instead,” Daryl answered.

Karen smiled weakly, “I don’t believe there are still decent men remain in this living hell,” then she shook her head, “I don’t wanna go anywhere. Just leave me here.”

“No, we can’t leave you like this. We have to take care of your wound,” Rick insisted. 

“I have no one. My family and those people who were with me are already gone. I have to stop right here, and you have to help me,” Karen reached Rick’s hand. Her tears fell down her hollow cheeks. 

Rick held her hand, “you’ll be safe with us, Karen.”

“You’re good man, Rick, and you too, Daryl. I appreciate it but I can’t go anymore. Thank you for found me here,” Karen sobbed, “but I want to ask you once more, please.”

Rick looked up to Daryl who leaned against the cell wall and then nodded. 

“Kill me,” Karen whispered. 

Tears started gathered in Rick’s eyes, “I can’t do that.”

“Please. You’ll help me so much with that,” Karen tightened her grip in Rick’s hand.

“Look at them,” she started again, “they’re my girls. They got sick so that those men didn’t pick them up. So was I. That’s why they cut my leg, because my girls starved and they didn’t want to give us food. They fed them with my leg. I wished they could survive while I’d die first for them, but it didn’t happen. They’re gone so fast and left me alone with their dead bodies around. Can’t you do me a favor for the last time, Rick?” 

Rick thought hard. He hesitated and kept looking up at Daryl, asking his opinion about this hard thing. And Daryl finally nodded. 

Rick took his Colt Python out. He looked at Karen’s eyes and he shook his head. 

“Do it, Rick,” Karen encouraged him but he just felt hard to do it. 

“Lemme do that if you don’t wanna,” Daryl touched Rick’s other hand to take the gun. 

But Rick refused. He would do that. He was just feeling hard and hurtful. His mind was full of shit.

Karen released Rick’s hand. He touched the gun and pointed it at her own head.

“Do it,” she said, “I’ll thank you for this, and I’ll never forget your kindness, Rick and Daryl. Nice to know both of you,” she closed her eyes, letting her tears fell down and a smile started growing in her lips. 

“I’m sorry, Karen,” Rick shook his head. His eyes were burdened by tears and by the time it started flowing, he already pulled the trigger. Deafening gun firing echoed in the whole building. Karen fell back lifelessly and blood started flooding the dull floor. 

Rick closed his eyes and wiped the tears immediately. He sat down for a moment, looking at the now four dead bodies before Daryl patted his shoulder and gave him a hand to get up. 

“Come on, man. We gotta bury ‘em. Give ‘em a proper burial,” Daryl looked at the dead bodies. 

Rick nodded. He put his gun back into the holster. The other three already smelled worse so he had to cover his nose with something to prevent him from another nausea. Daryl handed him a black bandana and nodded. 

They had to left to the warehouse or sort of place for gloves and shovel. This would be a long and exhausting work. They could just leave them out there and stayed in Cellblock A, but they couldn’t. They had to clean up those maneaters mess and their own mess in this place. 

Daryl took Karen’s body out of the cell and lied her down on the ground, covered by bedspread along with her daughters. He took the shovel and started digging. At the end, they dug two big graves on the prison grassed front yard. 

“Time to clean up the mess,” Rick wiped the sweat in his forehead. He went to the yard where cannibal victims remained. They couldn’t take those piles of bones and intestines out because it would be incredibly difficult and extremely disgusting. Daryl took two big fuel cans from the maneaters truck and started pouring it down to the remains. Rick gathered some unused woods and cardboard around to keep the fire burning. Then they burned them, with those amount of gasoline, it would make sure the process well done. 

Rick started the engine on one of those men’s truck. He would put those bastards’ bodies on the truck before buried them on the front yard. While Daryl occupied himself, taking their weapons and valuable possessions, put them orderly aside before dragging the bodies up the truck. 

They moved to the grave and started throwing them down to the hole. Karen and her daughters were put in a different and smaller grave. Looking at all of those bodies down, they looked at each other again before pushing the shovel to the ground and started burying them. 

Clouds already gathered in the sky. Rain was going to fall soon so was the storm. They worked as quickly as possible, ignoring the fact that they were exhausting. 

Rick dropped himself down on the ground and took his gloves off. He wiped the dripping sweat on his temples and dragged the bandana down his nose. He looked at Daryl who sat down not far from one of the graves, doing something but he could only saw his back. 

After a short time rest, Rick got up and approached the redneck. He smirked seeing Daryl had made a cross from two dried twigs tied by a small rope and was carving a name on a wooden board. Rick didn’t even know when this redneck got all of those things. 

Daryl looked up when he finished. He hummed at Rick who paid attention to the name he carved on the board. Karen. 

Rick smirked and let Daryl finished his job. He moved to the grave, following the redneck who stick the cross and put the board on it. 

“Hope she likes it,” Daryl muttered before shrugged and turned around. 

Rick nodded, looking at the grave with the name. He was absolutely guilty about her death, but he remembered that he helped her with that. She had suffered more than he could even imagine and death is the only redemption she waited for. 

They moved to the outer fence where they parked the vehicles. They had been there for a while and left both of them in annoyance when they returned. Someone or some people broke the truck windows. And when they learned more, they realized the food and weapons were all gone. 

“Motherfucker!” Daryl kicked the truck tire in anger. 

“Dammit,” Rick palmed his face. They would get into trouble when supplies were gone and storm was close. It could be two or three days and they couldn’t go further in that condition.

The former deputy opened the backdoor of the truck and checked what was left in there. He found Daryl’s saddlebag was still there, but their foods were all gone. The backpack was also still in the same place, with rumpled poncho inside and Hershey’s box. 

Daryl opened his treasure box and found that there wasn’t many left. He always ate it one by one during these last four weeks. Now he felt really sorry about that. 

“This is the only left,” he showed the chocolates to Rick. 

“We’ll find another way. I know the storm is close, but we can check inside. You got the key, it’s gonna work,” Rick got in the driver seat. He moved the truck in the parking lot inside the inner gate. Daryl followed him. 

They started patrolling around the prison and locked every gate to make sure no one would get in there. The sky signed something would happen worse than ever before. Rain started falling when they left the gate to find logistics in the building. 

Daryl lifted his crossbow and ran faster toward the closest cellblock. Rick looked back at Daryl when he heard a gunshot and saw his friend fell down to the ground.

“Oh, Jesus!” Rick shrieked. He ran back to the redneck who lied down on his stomach, face buried on the ground and blood spilled through his vest, making a red river line. 

Rick turned Daryl around. He pushed the vest aside and unbuttoned Daryl’s sleeveless shirt quickly. A curse was heard as the response of that hole in his side. He didn’t know where the bullet gone but it could be fatal.

The redneck lost his consciousness. Rick shook his face over and over and checking the pulse in his wrist and his neck. He shouted at him but he didn’t hear anything. It was all dark and his body tensed just to lost his sense. He couldn’t feel anything for a moment. 

“Daryl, hold on,” Rick caught his own breath. He pulled Daryl’s body closer to take him in. The rain just made things got worse. He put Daryl’s head on his arm and almost lifted him up when he saw someone running to the gate. 

Mind was divided into two. Rick had to do something. He had to take care of his friend, but the killer was still around. He wouldn’t let that piece of shit ran away after hurting his only fellow. He was a mess when he decided to chase the shooter. 

The man climbed the gate when Rick shot at his leg. He fell to the ground, looking at Rick so frightened. It seemed like his last bullet was the one he shot at Daryl. He put his hands up when Rick clicked his Colt Python.

Rick didn’t have time to compromise. He didn’t talk first like usual. This man hurt Daryl and if something happened to his friend, he would never forgive himself. So he leaned forward, head tilted aside and a gunshot ringing in between the rain falling and thunder rumbling. 

He ran back to his friend who already opened his eyes. Daryl lied down at his other side, witnessing how he executed that man.

“Oh, God,” Rick muttered when he lift Daryl’s head into his arm. He saw him back to his consciousness, but not yet leaving his critical condition. The bleeding was severe, so he had to do something urgently. 

Rick lifted Daryl by his arms, taking him into the Cellblock A. He wanted to run but taking Daryl that way wasn’t an easy thing to do. He must be several pounds heavier than him. So he walked slow and careful, tried not to make Daryl hurt. 

The redneck stared blankly at the sky, now he could see the dark colored rain falling into his face, so cold and sharp in his skin. All he could do was circling his arm over Rick’s neck. He could even barely walk and just let Rick dragged him with his feet on the ground. He wasn’t a hundred percent conscious as long as the bullet still there hiding in his flesh. 

Rick put Daryl on the bed of an opened cell. He got to leave him for any medical kit he could find. Checking at the wound, he was sure, he wouldn’t make it without those kits. 

“Hold on, man. I’m gonna get back soon,” Rick held Daryl’s hand and took both the vest and the shirt off his body. 

Daryl nodded and handed the keys to Rick with his tremble fingers. 

Rick left the cell. When he opened the door he realized how bad the thing outside was. Storm started coming, wind blew too strong and Rick ran out through the fenced hallway to the other building. He knew what danger was, but Daryl needed help. Daryl needed him to survive this condition. 

The building Rick sneaked in was a laundry room. He almost left immediately when he thought about something else. He grabbed a plastic bag and put some inmate clothes, bedspreads and blankets in it. Then he strode out. He was in a battle against time. Ignoring the terrifying sound the storm made outside, Rick kept going. His ankles were sore and almost sprained when he fell on the hallway, but he kept running. 

His hand secured the plastic bag from getting soaked by the rain. He headed into a gloomy room. He tried to find anything he could use as light and pretty lucky he got a small flashlight. The battery was suck and he had to be quick before it shut down completely. 

The storm was coming. It swept anything devastatingly. Rick was lucky he got secured by the fenced hallway, but as long as he ran for supply from one building to another, the storm crashed any kind of things against him. Everything was getting worse when he closed the Cellblock A exit door. 

Breath catching and heart thumping were all Rick could hear in the middle of darkness. He strode out the hallway with the flashlight to take him back to Daryl. Everything could happen to that redneck and he hoped he didn’t waste much time. 

“There you go, pal,” Rick put the plastic bag down. He took a candle out and grabbed Daryl’s lighter. It would make things better with a small light. 

Rick tried so hard to remember what Lori once taught him about medical procedure, like taking care of wounds based on the type. She was once a nurse before married to him, so she told him every important thing in medics. Now, it was going to help Daryl. 

It was so awkward but Rick managed to keep calm and worked. He started by cleaning the wound up with alcohol. Daryl muffled a scream and holding tight into the bedspread. Rick glanced over him for a while before continued taking the surgical tray out. He started washing the scissor and forceps with the alcohol and spreading some into his hand. 

There wasn’t glove in the clinic, or simple he couldn’t find them, so he just tried to make his hands sterile before taking care of that wound. 

“You ready?” Rick asked to make sure Daryl was willing with the procedure. The bloody messed emergency surgery procedure. 

Daryl hummed, “just do it,” he mumbled. 

There wasn’t sedation in this emergency surgery. Daryl got to take the pain all in himself. He was tough and it assured Rick that he must be alright. 

“Sorry, Daryl,” Rick cut the skin open a little bit to make sure he could took the bullet. The lighting was so shitty and he had to hold the flashlight in his mouth to see where the bullet was. And he easily found it. It wasn’t a fatal injury like what Rick once had back then. It didn’t go through too deep and didn’t make any damage to Daryl’s ribcage. It was only stuck beneath his skin, on his fat layer but surely it was extremely painful. 

Rick took the forceps and carefully moved it into the blood gushing hole in Daryl’s skin. Daryl flinched and growled when the kit got the bullet. The redneck breathed heavily, body tensed, hair damped in his forehead. His knuckles went white on the bedspread and he made a muffled scream when Rick pulled the bullet out of his wrecked skin. Blood gushed ever more. The bullet was dropped into the tray making a loud sound in the middle of silent bloody tension. The other man pushed the wound with a clean bandage before preparing the suture with his trembling hands. Rick was nervous no matter what. He was afraid of doing mistake. But he kept going though. It was for Daryl by the way. 

“This is the last one, alright, man,” Rick hissed as he started sticking the needle into the skin around the wound. Daryl flinched again and mumbling some inaudible swearing words. His biceps flexed as he gripped the headboard. Rick controlled his own breath and started stitching the wound very carefully. For God sake, he was relieved he remembered how to stitch a wound. His hands were bloodstained like hell, but he didn’t care. He finished it and bandaging the wound. 

“It’s done,” Rick sighed. 

Daryl hummed, “thanks,” he wiped the sweat in his forehead with the back of his hand. He kept lying at his other side to avoid the pain. 

Rick poured alcohol into his hands and washed them from the remaining bloodstain. He put all of the mess in a corner and some stuffs on the small desk across the bed. 

“One bigger caliber than this and you died,” Rick took the bullet with forceps and showed it to Daryl. 

“Damn,” Daryl scoffed. He was still trembled like hell. His lower body was all wet by the rain but he couldn’t do anything about that. it just made him looked worse.

Rick noticed, “gonna take off your clothes,” he said.

“The hell you saying? _Nah_!” Daryl scowled. 

“Dammit, you gonna get fever,” Rick insisted. 

Daryl looked at him. He looked embarrassed, that was all.

“Okay, I’m not gonna look at your privacy. I got blanket to cover you,” Rick crossed his arms on his chest, behaved like he was talking to his son. 

Daryl made a suspicious and skeptical look against Rick. He never let anyone really touch him, and now Rick was going to strip him off. It was beyond his tolerance. 

Rick spread the blanket over Daryl’s lower body. The wounded man flinched at first but he surrendered when the pain in his side struck his nerves. Rick took the shoes and the bad smelled socks off first before moved up to his waist. Daryl wouldn’t be able to unbuckle his own belt, so Rick did it all without looking at that part. Instead, he looked at Daryl’s eyes, tried to convince him that everything would be alright. 

“So easy right?” Rick smirked and covered Daryl’s body up his belly. 

Daryl hummed in annoyance, but he thanked Rick so much for everything. 

Rick pulled a chair closer to the bed. He looked at his friend and smiled. Literally smiled.

“What?” Daryl frowned. 

The other man shook his head. He looked miserable with those soaked clothes on him. His curl was wet falling to his pale face. He was trembling but acted like he didn’t care. 

“Get sum’ rest, change yer clothes, ya look like shit,” Daryl muttered. 

“Maybe later,” Rick shrugged, “I gotta get you some food and water,” he got up and left before the redneck could say anything. 

Daryl raised his eyebrows and closed his eyes. Taking the pain in his side, he went limp after losing some of his blood. He got used to pain and wound, but this one was probably the worst. He didn’t eat yet all day and the blood losing made it even worse. That was the first time he passed out. Even only in some minutes, it felt weird and unpleasant. 

Rick stood on the half opened doorway. He looked outside where storm was almost done. Rain still fell down, but he had to get food for Daryl. That redneck could pass out again. He headed to the truck and took the backpack where Daryl put the chocolate. Then he moved to the yard taking the crossbow back. He thought about inspecting the logistic room. Nobody knew where that was, but he would try. 

There he went back to the laundry room. He barely could see the way. Yet, the pathetic flashlight was still with him, so he strode out to the other room. It was a storeroom but completely locked. He tried every key but none of them was fit. The key was literally not there. No other tools to use either. He only got his gun and he used it.

The door was opened. He sneaked in with flashlight swinging here and there to check things.

Rick stopped and chuckled.

_“Bingo!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they started to look at each others more often than before, a kinda good news.  
> maybe too soon, but I just wanted to write it by the way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little touch for the cute redneck isn't too wrong

“I’m back,” Rick showed himself up in front of the cell. Daryl still lied down on his side but didn’t respond him. 

Rick put all stuffs he got on the table and on the floor before checking his friend. Daryl breathed heavily. His eyes closed tight. He put his hand on his forehead. He was burning.

“Hey, wake up man,” Rick whispered, patting Daryl’s shoulder gently.

The redneck opened his eyes instantly. Those eyes were red and tears gathered in the corner. He got fever. 

“What?” he mumbled.

“You’re burning,” Rick said, “you need to eat and take these antibiotics,” he took two brown bottles of medicine he got from the clinic out of his trousers pocket. 

“Uh, I’m alright,” Daryl muttered, “where’d you get all of that shit?” he smirked looking at the cans of food and some packs of cookies and crackers on the table. 

“Treasure cave,” Rick raised his eyebrows, “open sesame and here we go.”

Daryl nibbled his lower lip. He almost laughed, but he controlled himself.

“Eat,” Rick shoved a pack of crackers, “you’re starving and losing much blood.”

Daryl nodded. He looked at how Rick tore up the package and took one for him. It was ridiculous as he never be taken care that way by anyone before. 

“Cud do it myself, ain’t your baby,” Daryl took the crackers.

Rick nodded and moved back to the chair. He got paler and trembled even worse.

“Change yer clothes,” Daryl said.

“Gonna get water. I checked the shower, the water is on,” Rick got up. 

_“Rick!”_ Daryl snapped. It was the very first time he called the former deputy by his nick name. He was surprised himself and wanted to swallow that word back.

Rick raised his eyebrows. He never expected to be called by his name instead of Grimes like usual.

“You’re gonna get sick too. Take that shit out and change yer goddamn clothes, you fuckin’ pile of shit,” Daryl pointed his finger, voice was deep, calm but intimidating.

“Alright,” Rick shrugged. He turned back, took one of the inmate clothes, glanced over the Redneck with a slight smile and moved to the shower room. 

Rick peeled all of those soaked clothes off of his body. It had been so many days since he took shower the last time. The room was dark, but he felt safe in there. All doors outside the cell room were locked. Nobody would bother him or Daryl. 

The water was cold, but purely clean. Some inmates left soap on the floor, so he took it. A smile growing in his lips as he got revived by the fresh scent he had missed for at least six months. Water dripped over his curls, moved through his growing beard down to his body. 

He closed his eyes. Though his mind was still full of anxiety about his family, he tried to think something happy. He could take shower again. He stayed alive. Daryl did too. And Daryl called him Rick. He giggled at that. 

The plain grey prison jumpsuit looked so weird for Rick. He sent people to jail to wear that outfit and now he had no choice but wear it. He sighed and put that jumpsuit on. 

“Have taking the painkiller?” Rick asked, striding into the cell in barefoot. 

Daryl snorted, “who’s this? A new inmate?” 

“Don’t make fun of me,” Rick pointed at Daryl, “you gotta wear it too.”

“Nah, I ain’t gonna,” Daryl pouted.

“You will, unless you choose to be naked all around,” Rick muttered and taking two pills from different bottles, “take these, you’re gonna be okay soon,” he handed them to Daryl.

“I ain’t takin’ shit,” Daryl shook his head like a little boy.

“You have to,” Rick nodded, “you could just get nasty pus in your wound without antibiotics. I did a very miserable surgery to your wound and I can’t guarantee you about the sterile shit.”

Daryl hummed and took the medicine. Rick watched him swallowed them, suspecting if he hid them in his mouth to be thrown up later. 

“Don’t treat me like I’m a five years old,” Daryl mumbled.

“But you just turn up like a five years old,” Rick snorted. 

“Ain’t funny, prisoner,” Daryl pouted. 

“It is,” Rick reached over the backpack and took a pack of cigarette out. He pulled one out, slipping in between his lips and lit it.

“Told me, ya didn’t smoke shit,” Daryl shook his head.

“I didn’t, but why not?” Rick laughed and choked by the smoke.

Daryl scoffed, “yer still suck no matter what.”

“Hey, I’m tryin’, okay?” Rick tried another drag. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Daryl smiled secretly behind his scruff. 

“Life’s changed pretty fast. I don’t believe I’m still here,” Rick said, “I don’t believe I survived that long with no one around. My life support was shuttin’ down and I wasn’t dead. So weird.”

Daryl hummed, “don’t be stupid. It’s yer life, take it and ya make it.”

Rick stared at a pair of blue eyes in the dimmed of light, “yeah I make it now,” he took the next drag but seemingly failed. He coughed. 

Daryl kept his face straight, “lemme show ya,” he reached for the cigarette in between Rick’s fingers. Rather than getting the new one, he chose the secondhand smoke. 

Rick handed his half burnt cigarette. 

The redneck put the filter in between the lips, holding the stick with both thumb and forefinger and taking a deep drag before blowing the smoke through his nose and back out of his mouth. 

“So easy,” Daryl smirked, handed back the cigarette. The former deputy took the stick and slipped it in his lips. 

Rick chuckled softly. He put a cigarette pack and the lighter on the bed next to the redneck’s head, thought he might want to smoke. He reached another clean bedspread in the plastic bag.

“I can’t let you sleep on that disgusting sheet,” he managed to change the soaked and bloodstained sheet with the new one.

“Nah, you don’t need to do that, Grimes. Ain’t your patient, seems like you playin’ shit here,” Daryl refused but the other man kept doing thing. He took a cigarette and lit it, bent his head up a little bit before turned back to lay down.

“I do,” Rick glanced at Daryl’s eyes. He was stubborn as hell but still didn’t notice why he went such protective and caring for the redneck. 

When he finished, he soaked the black bandana Daryl gave him previously with water from the sink. He dragged the chair closer to the redneck and pushed the burnt cigarette against the cold floor.

“The hell you doin’, Grimes?” Daryl flinched when Rick started touching his face with the soaked fabric.

“Clean you up,” Rick muttered, being so careless about how scornful the other man was. 

“Nah, ya stay the hell away from me, ya hear?” Daryl warned, pointing the burning tip of his cigarette very close to Rick’s face.

“Look at you, Dixon, how close you look like a wild animal,” Rick said, “being so defensive because you’ve been out there for so long,” he wiped Daryl’s sweat damped forehead, revealing his rarely seen broad forehead. Then he moved down to his scruffy cheek. The respond was mostly flinching. 

Daryl grasped Rick’s wrist. He didn’t throw it away, just let it stayed there.

“Why’d ya do that to me, Rick?” he mentioned that name again. 

“I care ‘bout you. You’re my only friend now, the only sane people I can get along with,” Rick pinned his eyes into the darkened blues. His hand tried to move from the grasp, slowly, the redneck let him go and he continued cleaning his face up. 

“Ya cud just lemme die out there. Left me when I didn’t wanna come with ya. but why didn’t ya do that?” Daryl’s voice was getting low as he puffed the smoke up. 

“Now you look so stupid, Dixon,” Rick scoffed, “I trust you in the first place and I should thank you. Now I’m asking you why you come along?” he wiped Daryl’s neck. The redneck startled a little bit for the sudden ticklish sensation. It seemed like he was never been touched that way by anyone before. 

“I didn’t like ya. Yer shit no matter what. I never believe anyone who promised fuckin’ thing, but maybe I’m givin’ up this time,” Daryl snorted, “I dunno why I followed ya, but maybe I’m just a lil wild animal gettin’ tired to be all alone.”

“You’re not alone anymore, Daryl,” Rick said softly. He traced the broad shoulders to the perfectly toned biceps with the bandana, “I always wonder whether you trust me or not, but maybe I get the answer now. You just never told me ‘bout that, and ‘bout that someone you’re lookin’ for.”

Daryl let out a sigh when Rick moved down his chest to his abs and working around the bandaged wound. 

“You can just tell me now. Thought you trust me,” Rick mumbled as he held one of Daryl’s arm with his left hand and the right cleaned it up, brushing softly to the dirt stained palm and fingers. 

“I’m lookin’ for my brother, Merle,” Daryl watched how gentle Rick cleansed his hand. 

“Ah, now I know,” Rick nodded, “we’ll find him, you and me,” he asserted. 

Daryl hummed. He saw Rick let his hand go, but he reached those long slim fingers with his free hand. 

“Thanks,” he muttered while his other hand finished the cigarette against the wall.

Rick literally smiled. He touch Daryl’s rough palm, shaking his hand. 

“It’s too late now, take some rest,” Rick pulled the blanket up to cover Daryl’s chest.

“Yeah,” Daryl still looked at those killing blue eyes, “ya need to lay up too, been workin’ too hard t’day.”

Rick smirked and searched that glimmer in Daryl’s eyes, looking deep at him for a moment.

“Of course, I’m gonna layin’ up there,” he pointed at the second bed on top of Daryl’s.

The former deputy took a blanket. He put the candle off and climbed up his bed.

“Night, Daryl.”

“Yeah, g’d night.”

 

It had been few days since Daryl got shot by an unknown person. Rick forced him to take the medicine and it resulted better for himself. He could get up and walk even though it was still painful in the stitched wound. They would stay in the prison until Daryl totally recovered. Plus the weather outside was still unstable. They would not risk themselves. 

“Have takin’ your painkiller?” Rick’s voice was heard outside the cell. 

Daryl peeked his head out, “nah, I don’t wanna take that shit anymore, ‘m alright now.”

“It’s not even been a week,” Rick leaned back at the cell threshold, “it’s gonna help you.”

The redneck shrugged. He walked back to his bed carefully. This guy recovered better and faster than anyone Rick knew before. Maybe that was because he lived a thug life. 

“How’s outside?” Daryl sighed in pain as he tried to lift his arm.

“Much better than yesterday,” Rick made a small smile, “come on, I’m gonna take you out.”

Daryl hummed as Rick leaned down on him and offered his arm. 

“Come on,” Rick insisted, “you need some fresh air.”

The redneck refused Rick’s arm. He got up carefully and walked out of the cell limply. The former deputy looked at him, locked his eyes at his every move, maybe worried if he fell down. Surely like a father worried over his new walking baby. 

Daryl sat on the grass, legs straight, both hands propped on the ground. He glanced at Rick beside him and found how ridiculous they were, sitting together side by side in the same pose and the same prison jumpsuit. 

“What? It seems like you wanna laugh,” Rick winced, looking at his friend. 

“Nah,” Daryl smirked, “we just look pretty stupid in this shitty jumpsuit,” he lit a cigarette.

“Yeah, we do,” Rick waited the other man handed him the pack and he took one. 

“Dontcha think we waste our time to stay here too long? Yer time, yer family, yer mission,” Daryl dragged deep. 

Rick sighed, “I can’t leave you alone like this. How many times should I tell you?” he looked up at the grey sky. 

“I’m a burden for ya,” Daryl mumbled, half hoping Rick wouldn’t hear his words. 

“No, you’re not,” Rick puffed the smoke up, “you’re my partner. We have the same mission here.”

“Ain’t easy tracking Merle around. He might be already dead somewhere. Should stop hopin’ so long ago,” Daryl nibbled his lower lip. 

“Don’t stop hoping,” Rick laid down on the grass. 

Daryl hummed and followed laying down, propping his head with one of his forearm. 

“And stop thinking that you have no one. You have a friend now, Daryl.”

“So ya think yerself a friend of mine?” Daryl scoffed, “what kinda joke is it, Grimes?”

“It’s not a joke, Dixon. I know you had a friend once. Maybe that pretty girl, your girlfriend maybe. Sorry, if I’m rude,” Rick took a deep drag. 

“Ain’t your motherfuckin’ business, Grimes,” Daryl’s voice raised, but went low very quickly, “ain’t gonna talkin’ bout the girl, but ya best know that she ain’t my girlfriend. The hell ya think I fooled around with a seventeen year old?”

“Well. I just don’t know, because you never told me about her. What’s her name again? Beth?” Rick was simply a super curious person. He would like to find information with any kind of way. 

“Yeah, Beth Greene. She ain’t my girlfriend, just found her in Alabama, said she was a freshman in college. She’s all alone, her fellaz died. She survived for some time. We moved together to Georgia, until that day she couldn’t make it. I’ve promised I’d take her home. But that ain’t gonna happen.”

“What happened to her?”

“Got killed by a fuckin’ psycho bitch policewoman, a headshot.”

Rick winced in curiosity. He kept his mouth shut but Daryl knew he must be curious.

“Ain’t gonna tell you the whole story, too damn long. She got kidnapped, I tracked her, things got shitty and she died just like that. She stabbed that bitch with scissor and the gun accidentally fired, shootin’ at her head. And then, fuck,” Daryl nibbled his lower lip. His breath got heavier that Rick could see his lips trembled. 

“It’s okay. You don’t need to go on,” Rick said and sighed at the moment he realized Daryl nearly cried. 

“Ah, dammit,” the redneck blinked, trying to move the tears that gathered in his eyes away. 

He didn’t know why he turned too emotional, but Beth’s death was the worst thing he experienced. He saw she fell with a hole in her head, and that blood flowing on the floor and that he finally pulled the trigger of his gun and killed that policewoman. And that he had to carry Beth’s dead body and buried her all by himself. That girl was supposed to be around the people she loved and that she might be did, but when she was gone and the only person who stood by her side was just a miserable homeless redneck. Yet, that girl loved him, not as a boyfriend, but as a best friend, she followed him and trusted him and that made he got more broken when she was finally gone.

“I’m sorry, Daryl,” Rick moved up at his side, leaning closer to Daryl.

“Nevermind,” the redneck murmured. He didn’t even dare to look at Rick’s eyes and felt unready to show his weakness.

The sky up there started covered by thick gray clouds. The sun would soon disappear and things got cold. But Daryl still wanted to be there, lying on the grass, staring at the peeking vague sunlight through the big fern tree. Rick said nothing after he realized he pushed his friend too far. So he just lied down there next to him, accompanied him with a pack of cigarette. 

 

Rick went to bed earlier than usual. The air was too cold and they had no heater around. It made him got sleepy more often and slept longer than he used to. He was already somewhere in his dream when he suddenly woke up in the middle of the night. He heard something. 

It was too dark in the cell room but Rick could make sure he heard someone was sobbing. It sounded so creepy and made him got goosebumps. Tried to push the ghost thing out of his mind, he knew there was only one person who might be sobbing in that room. 

Daryl. 

Rick lied down at his side. He didn’t move and didn’t make any sound, just stayed silent, listening to his friend’s weeping down there. Something must distract Daryl so bad until he couldn’t control himself anymore. It just made Rick felt guiltier than before when he remembered what they talked about last afternoon. 

Daryl lied at his back, looked up to the darkness and felt losing control over himself. He felt the burden overloaded in his chest and he just cried himself out. Never been crying for a very longtime, not even when he lost Beth Greene and buried her by himself. He was fulfilled by regret and guilt. Why he couldn’t save her life and why he let her ran out of the hide and got caught. Where was he? He was supposed to be there to protect her and take her home as he promised. 

Tears flooded through the sides of his face and pooled around in his hair. Then he remembered Beth’s words that he would miss her so bad when she gone. It made him sob even worse than before. She was right. No matter how hard he tried to keep his mind occupied with other thing and how careless he thought he was, he finally missed her too bad. He didn’t want to remember, but her innocent pristine face always haunted him and accompanied him at the same time when he felt too lonely. So he couldn’t help but recalled her smile, her laugh, her childish manner, her beautiful blue eyes and he just whimpered at it all. 

Rick felt his chest was so painful at the moment he heard Daryl sobbed. He knew Daryl remembered that girl and he couldn’t help but feeling guilty to remind him about her. His hand gripped the edge of his bed and mouth opened slightly to say something but he stopped. There was something in Rick that made him really wanted to calm Daryl down and even to pull him closer in a hug, but he knew the redneck would refuse and maybe mad at him about that. Daryl felt too lonely and Rick wanted to tell him that he wasn’t alone and that there was still a friend around him. But the former deputy lied back to his bed. His eyes still opened wide and the guy below still sobbed, probably didn’t notice that he awoke and heard him. 

Rick didn’t want to distract Daryl but he had to because he felt he couldn’t hear that sad sobbing anymore. It just made thing worse and Rick was reminded about his own family and the thought that if they were already gone. He would be just like Daryl for more or less. 

“Daryl, are you okay?” Rick finally asked.

Daryl stopped his sobbing and moved to his side. He didn’t answer Rick. He couldn’t and he didn’t want to. His hand wiped all tears soaked his face. With a weak sniff, he tried to close his eyes. He closed his eyes and tried to forget all the things again with a hope that he would be alright when he woke up the next morning. He would be a tough and careless man again.

Rick sighed. He stared at the dark ceiling for a moment. Daryl was no longer sobbing. He must be already driving into sleep and it was good enough for himself. Rick never saw him crying before, and he didn’t this time. He just heard his sobbing but it sounded painful already. A hint of regret fulfilled Rick’s mind that he didn’t calm Daryl when he was down like that. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to do it so badly. Even though he didn’t know the real things Daryl experienced, he knew if a man like Daryl could even cry that way, something hard must happen. Something that he could never imagine he would be able to take. 

 

Days passed by and it was the time for them to leave the prison. Rick didn’t have guts to ask Daryl about that night he cried. The eyes sockets couldn’t tell any lies eventually, but they just didn’t talk about it anymore. Daryl repaired Rick's truck window the next morning and occupied himself all day taking care of his motorbike. He didn’t talk much that day, didn’t eat much and just smoked all day. Rick knew it all, but he couldn’t help but let him alone. He just needed a day to recover from his emotional pain, though he turned quieter after that until today. 

“Ya know where to go, dontcha?” Daryl put his leather vest on after finished changing his clothes back to his previous outfits. 

Rick nodded. He glanced up while fitting his boots on. A slight smile appeared in his face as he looking at Daryl who just nibbled his lower lip and moved awkwardly like usual. 

“Yeah, we’re heading east, leaving Georgia as soon as possible. You show me the way,” Rick walked passed the redneck and pinned sharply at his small blue eyes for a second before he left to his truck

Daryl was ready on his bike. Shifting the rear, pulling the throttle and he rode out of the prison gate. He led Rick out to the highway and then they rolled to the west, feeling free like the kings of the road. 

Rick was still thoughtful about his friend, but he was sure he would be alright. He just needed to be always around him and gave him a hand when he needed, whether he asked for it or not. And Daryl tried to believe that he was fine, and was better than he ever before. There were a little freedom and sheer feeling after that night.

There they were going again. Moved down the road and be ready to fight and to survive again.


End file.
